(Poems 


benjamin  Jisfii 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fisherpoemsOOfishrich 


POEMS 

BY 

BENJAMIN   FISHER 


J9'6 


lMlMifl|lflirJfilflftif>^ 


POEMS 


BENJAMIN   FISHER 

Author  of  "Life  Harmonies"  Selected  Poems 
"Francis  Thompson"  Essays 


David  D.  Nickerson  6?  Company 
Boston.  Publisher* 

"'~     ■;"  iimiiyiTTiT.~."  .       ■       "■  "'■■>  ■ 


COPYRIGHT      1921 

By  CLARENCE  A.  FISHER 


en  ill*  fHnnury  of 
(Our  fcrar  IFat^r  and  fflothrr 


CONTENTS 

Pace 

BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  XI 

INTRODUCTION      *. 1 

A  BALLAD  OF  MAN    7 

MORNING-GLORIES    9 

THE    POET    12 

AUTUMN     16 

ODE  TO  IDEALITY    19 

MAYING    26 

THE    MINER    29 

THE    OHIO     36 

SERENADE  TO   38 

MAN  THE  SPECTATOR  OF  GOD  40 

FOUR    LOVES    45 

HOPE— SONNET— BRAVE  HEART,   Etc 47 

THE     ROBIN     48 

DEDICATION  OF  TOMB  OF  McKINLEY  51 

THE  FIRST  SNOW-FALL   56 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MARS    57 

THE  POET'S  RHAPSODY    61 

TO  WINTER    63 

HOAR   FROST    66 

THE  COTTAGERS    69 

THE  PROPHECY  OF  MAN    73 

THE  SONG  SPARROW   83 

THE    INDIAN    85 

THE  WOOD-THRUSH    97 

SERENADE     100 

THE   HERMIT— SONNET    102 

vti 


Pac« 

WINTER    BALLAD    103 

THE   POET'S   WOOING    104 

AMBITION— SONNET     106 

THE   THRONE    107 

THE   SNOWFLAKE    112 

AUTUMN    LEAVES    115 

THE  MEADOW  LARK   119 

ON   EASTER  MORN    122 

THE  HAIL   127 

ASPIRATION— SONNET— INCESSANT  SPIRIT,   Etc 130 

THE    COMET    131 

SUFFERING— SONNET     137 

WANDERING     138 

THE  POET'S  DEATH   147 

THE  STORM— SONNET   152 

AUTUMN    LANDSCAPE    153 

THE  POET'S  HOPE  154 

BIRD'S   AT  EVENING    155 

HOPE— SONNET— THE  HALTING  MORN,  Etc 157 

ODE   ON   SYMPATHY    158 

LOVE  AND  LONELINESS    161 

HARMONIES  I     167 

HARMONIES  II     169 

HARMONIES  III     171 

HARMONIES  IV    173 

ASPIRATION— SONNET— PALE  ART  THOU,   Etc 175 

BILLY    176 

MORNING— SONNET    179 

NOON— SONNET     181 

EVENING— SONNET     183 

V11I 


Pag* 

NIGHT— SONNET     184 

ODE  ON  THE  TRANQUILITY  OF  THE  SOUL   185 

THE    SUPREME    GOOD— SONNET    194 

THE  PRAYER  OF  THE  PHANTHEIST— SONNET  195 

REVOLUTION— SONNET    196 

THE  LIGHT  OF  NEW   YEAR   197 

THE  POWERS  THAT  BE    200 

VISIONED    LOVELINESS     204 

CHRISTMAS    THOUGHTS    208 

ODE  ON    HUMILIATION    212 

TO  THE  SERAPH— SOUL    216 

THE  SEASON'S   IMPRESSIONS    218 

FOUND    AT    DAWN    222 

WITHOUT  THEE   227 

THE   TEAR    230 

YOUTH'S   VISION    231 

NATURE'S   DIVINITY    233 

DEJECTION      236 

MELANCHOLY      239 

LONELINESS    240 

THE  LAST   DAWN    242 

OCTOBER    248 

THE  LONELY  SONGSTER  250 

PRELUDE    253 

INTERLUDE    254 

POSTLUDE    255 

REDEEMED     257 

Foreword      259 

Immortal   Love    261 

Redeemed— Poem    265 

IX 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

of 
THE  AUTHOR 

Benjamin  Franklin  Fisher  was  born  at 
Steubenville,  Ohio,  on  the  22nd  day  of  Decem- 
ber, 1873.  His  father  was  Dr.  Benjamin  H. 
Fisher,  a  physician  and  surgeon  who  success- 
fully practised  his  profession  there  for  many 
years.  Dr.  Fisher  served  as  a  surgeon  in  the 
Civil  War,  and  continued  in  his  profession 
until  his  death  in  November,  1906.  He  was 
married  in  early  life  to  Elizabeth  Rittenhouse 
who  was  born  at  Hopedale  in  Jefferson 
County,  Ohio.  Benjamin  was  one  of  four 
children,  Bartley,  Jennie,  Benjamin  and  Clar- 
ence, the  first  of  whom  died  at  the  age  of  six 
years,  Jennie  and  Clarence  still  surviving. 

Benjamin's  early  education  was  obtained  in 
the  public  schools  of  Steubenville,  where  he 
was  graduated  from  the  High  School  in  1892. 
He  then  went  to  Depauw  University  at  Green- 
castle,  Indiana,  and  pursued  collegiate  studies 


there  for  about  two  years.  His  first  literary 
work  was  begun  at  this  time  in  some  brief 
articles  and  poems  which  appeared  in  the  col- 
lege publications.  Leaving  college  in  1895  he 
made  an  extended  tour  of  Europe,  travelling 
almost  continuously  for  a  year,  giving  much 
attention  to  the  study  of  foreign  languages 
and  art.  Returning  home,  he  entered  Ober- 
lin  College  where  he  continued  his  studies,  and 
later  in  1899  returned  to  Depauw  University. 
In  all  of  his  college  work  especial  attention 
and  study  was  given  to  literature  and  the  fine 
arts.  Somewhat  later  he  made  another  tour 
of  Europe,  contributing  while  abroad,  and 
after  his  return,  articles  to  various  American 
magazines  and  newspapers. 

It  was  following  the  last  tour  that  he  seri- 
ously began  his  poetical  work.  Within  a  few 
years'  time,  although  engaged  in  business  af- 
fairs, he  wrote  a  considerable  number  of 
poems  intending  them  for  later  book  publica- 
tion. The  poems  of  this  period  were,  how- 
ever, laid  aside  by  reason  of  the  requirements 
and  time  needed  for  business  affairs,  and  only 
a  few  of  them  found  their  way  into  the  pub- 
lished collection  in  1914. 


In  1903  he  made  a  tour  into  the  far  interior 
of  Mexico,  and  while  there  wrote  several  ar- 
ticles for  magazines  and  newspapers.  His 
father  and  mother,  to  whom  he  was  greatly- 
attached,  died  in  1906.  Shortly  afterward  he 
became  president  of  a  manufacturing  com- 
pany and  remained  in  active  business  until  his 
last  illness. 

During  the  latter  years  of  his  life  almost 
every  moment  possible  was  devoted  to  his 
poetical  works,  and  in  the  early  Spring  of  1914 
his  first  collection  of  poems  was  published 
under  the  title  "Life  Harmonies." 

He  immediately  set  out  to  complete  other 
works  in  which  he  had  been  interested  for 
years,  and  just  prior  to  his  death  had  com- 
pleted for  publication  a  number  of  poems  and 
prose  works.  In  the  midst  of  these  labors  he 
was  stricken  down  by  a  sudden  illness,  and  un- 
expectedly passed  away  on  Thursday,  the  26th 
day  of  October,  1916,  in  a  hospital  at  Canton, 
Ohio,  where  he  had  been  hurriedly  taken  when 
he  fell  ill.  On  a  beautiful  autumn  day,  Sun- 
day, the  29th  of  October,  he  was  buried  in  the 
little  cemetery  at  Loudonville,  Ohio. 

The  later  years  of  his  life  were  filled  with 


little  acts  of  kindness  to  those  whom  his 
charity  could  reach.  His  success  in  business 
was  to  him  only  the  means  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  higher  purposes  in  life.  Expression 
of  this  has  been  beautifully  given  in  his  sonnet 
"  Aspiration/ ' — 


"Incessant  Spirit  like  a  tireless  goad, 

Compelling  effort  to  unwonted  trials, 
Why  dost  thou  urge  me  onward  o'er  the  road 

Of  weary  struggle  through  life's  mazy  wiles? 
With  failures  scorned  and  pleasures  all  subdued, 

I  strive  and  strain  to  reach  those  higher  goals 
Where  labor  shall  achieve  some  human  good — 

Some  influence  sweet,  or  love  in  humble  souls. 
So,  shall  thy  force  relentless  keep  her  sway; 

E'en  though  I  lose  the  common  joys  of  life, 
My  heart  shall  triumph  in  some  golden  day, 

With  lives  made  better  through  my  pain  and  strife. 
Thou  gracious  tyrant,  wield  thy  chast'ning  goad 
And  drive  me  upward  o'er  thy  skyey  road." 


Yes, — he  has  in  truth  realized  his  great  de- 
sire,— he  has  left  the  world  "some  influence 
sweet  and  love  in  humble  souls.' ' 


INTRODUCTION. 

XN  bringing  to  the  public  this  collec- 
tion of  the  poems  of  Benjamin  Fisher 
there  has  been  no  attempt  to  exclude  any 
which  had  been  completed  at  the  time  of 
his  death.  Doubtless  he  would  have 
omitted  some  of  those  here  presented,  but 
it  is  felt  the  collected  edition  should  con- 
tain all  of  his  finished  labors.  Some  of  the 
poems  are  republished  from  the  volume 
brought  out  by  him  in  1914  entitled  "Life 
Harmonies,"  but  the  greater  number  com- 
prise those  never  before  published. 

There  are  imperfections,  of  course,  as 
there  must  be  in  a  complete  collection  of  a 
poet's  life  work,  and  yet,  taken  all  in  all, 
there  is  shown  surprising  evolution  from 
the  poems  of  youth,  as  "Love  and  Loneli- 
ness," to  those  of  true  poetic  thought  and 
inspiration,  like  "The  Poet's  Death"  and 
his  masterpiece — * i  Redeemed. ■ ' 
In  the  composition  of  his  poems  great  care 

was  always  taken  in  the  choice  of  meter 

1 


and  rhyme  consistent  with  the  thought  and 
subject  to  be  embodied;  and  this  is  true 
throughout  all  his  work,  although  the  art 
of  it  is  carefully  concealed  as  it  always 
should  be.  His  poetical  ideals  were  formed 
from  a  constant  companionship  with  the 
masters  of  poesy;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
truly  weigh  the  influence  of  any  one  poet 
in  the  life  work  of  another.  His  reading 
and  study  of  literature  and  especially  of 
poetry  had  been  almost  continuous  from 
boyhood,  but  perhaps  it  can  be  said,  that 
Dante,  Milton,  Aeschylus,  Spencer, 
Wordsworth,  Byron,  Keats  and  Shelley 
are  those  whose  influence  was  greatest  in 
his  poetical  life. 

His  was  a  deep  abiding  faith  in  Chris- 
tianity, and  yet  strange  as  it  may  seem  to 
some,  he  was  inspired  and  influenced  to  a 
marked  degree  by  Shelley.  He  felt  the  ul- 
timate triumph  of  life  to  be  the  endless 
glory  of  love,  and  this,  after  all,  he  found 
in  Shelley's  " Prometheus  Unbound," 
"  Adonais"  and  in  the  exquisite  "Hymn  to 
Intellectual  Beauty."  Surely  there  is  no 
inconsistency  in  taking  into  one's  being 


such  conceptions  linked  as  they  were  in 
him  with  true  Christian  faith ;  and  so  we 
have  the  lines  at  the  close  of  "Wdnder- 
ing"- 

"And  all  the  joys  and  woes  of  men 

Poured  o'er  my  heart  to  consecrate 
My  selfish  passion's  paltry  pain 
To  UNIVEESAL  LOVE  again 
For  every  living  state." 

And  in  "The  Prayer  of  the  Pantheist",— 
"Oh,  loveliness  divine,  my  soul  allure 
To  triumph-skies  and  realms  of  ecstasy." 
And  again  in  the  closing  lines  of  "The 
Poet's  Death, "— 

"Thy  sky-lost  songs  of  joy  and  pain, 
Thy  yearnings  strange  for  perf ectness, 
Thy  sighs  and  tears,  thy  Love  supreme, 
Re-echo  here  in  Heaven's  fane 
And  hymn  Love's  universal  reign." 
And  finally  in  prose  form  in  the  Fore- 
word to  "Redeemed," — 

"Here  pride  is  debased,  humility  exalt- 
ed, suffering  recompensed  and  sacrifice 
rewarded,  in  the  vast  harmony  of  that  uni- 
versal law — "The  Infinite  Love  of  God." 

8 


The  " Essays  on  Francis  Thompson,' ' 
published  after  his  death,  in  1917,  and 
modeled  somewhat  after  Thompson's  own 
" Essay  on  Shelley,"  give  us  some  idea  of 
his  ability  to  write  in  fine  prose  form.  In 
these  we  find  the  poet  expressing  his 
thoughts,  impressions,  appreciation  and 
criticism  of  another  of  his  kind.  And  in 
the  Thompson  Essays  we  discover  prose- 
poetic  work  of  no  mean  character, — 

"Thompson's  imagination  was  fine,  deli- 
cate, subtle.  He  did  not  reach  the  sublime 
heights  of  Shelley,  or  formulate  the  grand 
conceptions  of  Milton.  He  worked  with 
all  possible  elements,  but  he  cherished 
them  for  their  individual  beauty,  nor  com- 
bined them  into  great  structures  of  tower- 
ing magnificence.  Yet  his  faculty  was 
quick,  rich,  rarified — his  fancies  evanes- 
cent, filmy,  fragile.  He  knew  the  fleeting 
phases  of  a  rapturous  moment;  he  saw 
the  vague  appearance  of  Nature's  strang- 
est passions;  he  grasped  the  pallid  won- 
ders of  Infinite  seemings,  and  made  them 
stay  and  change  into  palpable  beings  for 
our  adoration.    True,  the  high  passions  of 


the  super-mind — the  far,  strange  forces 
of  discovery  and  revelation,  that,  in  the 
absolute  greatness  of  some  souls,  pierce 
even  to  the  supernal,  were  not  his  native 
gift  or  cultivated  acquirement.  But  his 
power  of  minute  perception  and  discern- 
ment was  delicate  if  not  divine,  deep  if 
not  universal,  intense  if  not  exalted." 

The  spirit  and  beauty  of  nature  are 
ever  present  in  all  the  poetic  work  of  Ben- 
jamin Fisher.  His  true  companionship 
with  nature  seemed  to  have  kept  him  al- 
ways close  to  God.  Note  especially  the 
closing  stanza  in  "Autumn  Leaves,' ' — 
"Ah,  could  we  mold  our  sordid  fate 

To  Nature's  sinless  reign, 
Our  living  were  a  happy  state 

And  death  a  radiant  wane. 
0  autumn  leaves,  our  low  desire 
With  thy  rich  lore  of  life  inspire !" — 

the  entire  poems — "Nature's  Divin- 
ity" and  "The  Hermit,"  and  the  conclud- 
ing  stanza   of   "The   Seasons'   Impres- 


sions" 


"Oh,  that  the  full  import  of  Nature's 
mood — 

5 


The  reign  of  rigorous  Winter,  or  the 
rare 
Voluptuous  kiss  of  Summer's  plenti- 
tude — 
Might  be  to  thee,  my  brother,  as  to  me ! 
Our  souls  relieved  of  rankling  want  and 
care 
Would  thrill  like  harps  with  life's 
divinity, 
Would  rise  like  Christ  above  life's  vast 
despair." 
Strangely  enough  the  end  of  the  poet's 
earthly  life  came  soon  after  the  completion 
of  the  crowning  effort  of  his  career,  "  Re- 
deemed,"— the  story-poem  of  the  redemp- 
tion of  man  through  sacrifice  and  love. 
This  had  been  the  work  of  years  and  he 
felt  that  in  it  he  had  achieved  something 
worthy.     Here  at  last — "all  conceptions 
blend  in  human  and  divine  affection,  which 
alone  produces  earthly  happiness." 

Clarence  A.  Fisher. 

Canton,  Ohio. 
March,  1921. 


A  BALLAD  OF  MAN. 

There's  a  ballad  of  day 

That  I  learned  on  my  way 
O'er  the  hills  and  the  high  lands  alluring; 

Thou  hast  seen  how  the  morn 

Scatters  over  night's  bourn 
Like  a  flood  o'er  a  parched  land  pouring. 

Hast  thou  seen  it  arise 

Spreading  vast  o'er  the  skies 
With  a  flood-light  e'er  brighter  and 
higher, 

Till  it  reaches  a  height 

All  a-gleam  with  white  light 
In  the  zenith  of  all  noon's  desire? 

There's  a  song  of  the  brook 
As  it  starts  from  its  nook 
Purling  down  o'er  some  murmurous 
shallow ; 
How  it  lingers  or  whirls, 
In  its  calm  pools  or  swirls, 
Like  a  dark  dream  that  daylight  doth 
mellow. 


Hast  thou  seen  how  it  flows 

With  a  great  strength  that  grows 
To  the  mighty  and  broad-breasted  river, 

Till  it  sweeps  far  and  free 

Merged  at  last  in  the  sea — 
Calm  in  final,  triumphant  endeavor  ? 


There's  a  ballad  of  man 

Whispered  through  the  dim  plan 
Of  the  forces  and  soul  of  creation ; 

When  he  rose  from  the  night, 

With  the  birth-gloom  bedight, 
But  a  weird  hope  of  life  and  elation. 


Hast  thou  seen  him  through  years 

Struggle  up  with  his  fears 
To  a  day-gleam  from  darks  of  abjection? 

Like  the  dawn's  noontime  glow, 

Like  the  stream's  ocean  flow, 
He  shall  merge  in  some  far,  strange  per- 
fection. 


MORNING-GLORIES. 

Thou  gracious  gift  from  morning's  gems, 
Thou  dow'r  of  beauty,  fresh  with  dew, 
No  crowns  of  pearls  or  diadems 

Of  fabulous  price  can  vie  with  thee. 
The  breath  of  night  caressing  you 
Has  made  you  burst  with  ecstasy 
At  day's  first  greeting, — lovely  thing, 
What  wonder  in  thy  blossoming  I 


Does  night  or  day  or  heav'n  or  earth 

Hold  all  thy  hues  that  blend  so  free  ? 
Was  e'er  in  dreams  such  beauteous  birth, 
Such  generous  boon  of  smiling  cheer, 
Adoring  dawn  beholds  in  thee? 

No  gaudy  blooms  man's  care  can  rear, 
No  visions  rare  his  art  can  form 
Compare  with  thee,  sweet  bride  of  morn. 


So  lavish  in  thy  glad  array — 

Can  night  conjure  so  rare  a  sight 
As  from  her  depths  leaps  forth  with  day 
A  myriad  jewels  rich  and  pure? 
But  thou  must  die  before  the  light 
Of  noon  beholds  thy  wealth  mature, — 
With  tender  morn's  succeeding  reign 
To  burst  a  thousand  blooms  again. 


We  need  no  wealth  to  have  you  near, 

As  free  as  rain  and  dew  and  air. 
Thy  blessings  come  with  every  year 
As  long  as  God's  own  sun  endure. 
All  summer  long  thy  blossoms  fair 
Bedeck  the  haunts  of  rich  and  poor, 
And  lowly  homes  where  want  is  rife 
Bless  God  for  all  thy  cheerful  life. 


10 


With  thy  sweet  worship  of  the  sky — 

Thy  glory  to  earth's  Lord  and  ours, 
We  raise  our  silent  hymn  on  high 
For  all  thy  bounty  rich  and  free. 
Thanks  for  the  grace  of  thy  dear  flow'rs, 
Thanks  for  the  thoughts  they  move  in 
me, — 
All  Nature's  boundless  store  was  given 
For  human  joy, — as  free  as  Heaven. 


THE  POET. 

A  radiant  love  so  fair  and  pure, 

A  soul  astray  from  sky-kissed  heights, 

That  veils  of  blighting  grief  obscure, 

Had  fainted  on  the  midnight  still, — 

A  breathing  song,  a  pining  flow'r, 

A  tremulous,  mist-wildered  star 

That  thro'  the  gloaming  once  would  thrill 

The  pulse  of  languored  earth,  and  fill 

Its  mazy  shrouds  with  rainbowed  lights. 


On  scorning  earth  so  dark  and  cold, 
In  hearts  consumed  with  vulgar  greed, 
The  spirit  lost  could  find  no  fold 
Save  on  some  tender  maiden's  breast 
Athrob  with  love,  whose  lips  would  press, 
In  tranced,  dreamful  joy,  a  kiss; — 
But  oh,  to  wake  in  wild  unrest, 
In  dark  despair  from  rapture  blest, 
And  feel  that  soul-glow  pale  and  dead ! 


12 


So  pathless  o'er  life's  rugged  way, 
Athrill  with  bliss  or  crushed  in  pain, 
That  soul  companionless  doth  stray 
In  maze  of  tears;  yet  e'er  doth  glow 
With  yearning  love  for  human  hearts, 
That  o'er  its  life-chords  trembling  starts 
Some  rhapsody  of  bliss  and  woe ; 
Some  soaring  song  that  griefs  o'erflow 
And  crush  its  flight  to  earth  again. 


It  wanders  through  life's  wildered  flight 
No  love  can  touch  its  stilled  strings, 
No  passion  flash  its  sombre  night 
Where  sobful  silence  reigns  alone. 
No  song  doth  thrill ;  no  tender  gleam 
Of  bliss  and  love  will  wake  its  dream 
Of  sorrow.    Yet  it  lists  the  moan 
Of  human  grief  whose  swelling  tone 
Its  harmonies  to  Heaven  sings. 


18 


But  thro'  the  night  so  cold  and  long 
There  burns  a  trembling,  constant  star; 
And  o'er  the  silence  black,  a  song 
Breathes  tremulous  in  accents  dear, 
That  stricken  sorrows  hush  their  pain 
And  hearken  soothed  to  the  strain: 
Cold  Desolation,  palled  in  fear, 
Did  start  from  lifeless  void  to  hear 
Those  quivering  heart-strains  from  afar. 


The  black  night  wanes ;  its  direful  glooms, 
That  hung  in  moveless,  soundless  pall, 
Some  fitful  pallor  soft  illumes — 
The  first  still  flush  of  dawning  light. 
Soft  hues  and  music  thrill  the  haze, 
And  life  stirs  from  the  stupid  maze 
Of  torture's  trance.    With  heart-glows 

bright, 
Thy  mystic  sympathy's  pure  might, 
Like  day,  o'erfloods  my  sorrow's  thrall. 


14 


Woe  sinks  to  sleep;  and  desolate, 

My  tired  heart  fainting  longs  to  see 

Life's  glory-noon;  yet  must  it  wait, 

By  thy  heart  constant  lulled  still : 

And  'neath  thy  sleepless  vigils  blest 

It  sinks  aswoon  in  moanless  rest. 

The  grief -hushed  strains  thy  heart-chords 

thrill 
Surge  o'er  my  languished  soul,  and  fill 
With  hovering  dreams  of  ecstasy. 


15 


AUTUMN. 

Thou  still,  dearn  forest,  to  thine  arms, 
Thine  own  soul-love,  I  come  again, 
So  weary  of  earth's  loveless  strife, 
So  dreadful  'mid  its  vain  alarms : 
Here  where  thy  love  in  spirit-life 
Enfolds  me, — ah,  the  mem'ry-pain — 
As  she  upon  her  throbbing  breast 
In  panting  love, — and  thou,  in  sorrowed 
rest. 


Thy  lips  are  chill, — yet  stamp  my  brow 
With  kisses  till  they  warm  again. 
Thy  breast  that  heaved  with  loveful  joy 
Is  spiritless  and  saddened  now: 
Thou  too,  hast  tasted  life's  alloy. 
Thy  whispered  breath  in  scentless  bane, 
And  chilling  might  with  sorrow  fed, 
Eepeats  thy  love ;  'tis  I  am  cold  and  dead. 


16 


Ah,  spirit,  once  thy  step  was  light, 
Thy  smile  and  song  in  rapture  gay; 
Thy  maiden  beauty  Love,  so  bright, — 
My  soul  in  passion's  fire  did  burn! 
Thy  beaming  love  glowed  thro'  life's  day 
We  severed  e'er  to  strive  and  yearn. 
Ah,  had  I  on  thy  pulsing  breast, 
Thine  own,  swooned  in  young  love  to 
death,  and  rest  I 


Thy  love-gleams  that  with  ardor  glowed, 
Too  fervid  in  their  fierce  delight, 
In  their  own  flaming  rage  consumed, 
Flare  feebly  o'er  thy  charred  abode. 
Thy  blushful  glory  pale-begloomed, 
Waning  and  faded  bodes  the  night. 
Thy  heart  is  scarred  with  seared  bane, 
As  mine  is  riv'n  with  gleams  of  passion's 
pain. 


17 


Thy  fires  burn  low.    In  wildered  bliss 
The  tempest's  passion-blights  o'ersurge 
Thy  realm,  lured  by  thy  ravished  light, 
Thou  passion- wearied !    Winter's  kiss 
Pants  on  thy  brow  o'erflushed  in  night. 
Tho'  sad  thy  zephyr-moaned  dirge, 
Thro'  love's  night  creeping  from  its  bourn 
Hope  lifts  its  fear-hushed  voice  with  Joy 
to  mourn. 


is 


ODE  TO  IDEALITY. 

Great  Spirit  from  some  realm  of  Heaven, 

Like  the  visitings  of  dreams, 
That  comest  with  strange  pow'r  God- given, 
Like  the  lightning's  glorious  fire, 
Lifting  on  thy  winged  gleams, 

To  far  domains  of  visioned  loveli- 
ness 
The  tranced  soul  that  in  thy  thrilled 
caress 
To  thy  dear  heaven  doth  aspire, — 
Oh,  fill  our  minds  with  high  desire 
For  perf  ectness. 

O,  mighty  Essence  of  Divineness, 

Ever  restless  in  thy  flight, 
To  thy  pure  spheres,  unknown,  confineless, 
Where  the  few  brave  souls  and  great 
From  earth's  subjecting  might, 

Have  dared  thro'  scorn  and  jeer 

alone  to  rise 
And  dauntless  cleave  with  thee  the 
kingless  skies, — 
Oh,  visit  with  thy  glorious  state 
The  souls  of  men,  that  once  elate 
To  Paradise, 

19 


Their  eyes  enravished  by  the  seeming 

Of  thy  loveliness,  dear  Soul, 
May  e'er  behold  thee  thro'  life's  dreaming, 
Lifting  from  earth-guilt  and  shame, 
Guiding  to  the  spirit's  goal. 

Oh,  could  our  eyes  behold  thy    - 

mystery 
More  blessed  than  conceived 
felicity, 
More  lustrous  than  earth's  brightest 

gleam, 
And  sweeter  than  our  fairest  dream 
Of  ecstasy, 

Our  state,  transformed  with  spirit-beauty, 

Then  would  rise  to  Heaven's  bourn, 

Conceiving  naught  of  want  and  duty 

Save  to  love  all  human-kind. 

Thou  hast  left  us  but  to  mourn 

Alone  amid  earth's  jangling,  mortal 

strife, 

To  struggle  comfortless  thro'  evils 

rife, 

Yet  with  thy  image  clear,  refined, 

E'er  in  our  deathless  souls  enshrined,- 

Our  guide  thro'  life. 
20 


O  sourceless  Majesty,  whose  splendor 
Gleams  thro'  gloomed  palls  of  life, 
Whose  thrilling  power,  tranquil,  tender, 
Flooding  thro'  earth's  surging  night. 
Calms  the  raging  waves  of  strife 

And  lights,  with  glory  purer  than 

the  day, 
The  darkened  solitudes  of  life's 
lone  way, — 
Thou  Beauty  dearer  than  delight, 
Thou  Grace  envisioned, — let  thy 
might 
Assume  its  sway, 

That  o'er  tho  fettered  gloom  of  sadness 

Fostered  hy  man's  sin  and  hate, 

May  glow  the  gloried  hues  of  gladness 

Gleaming  from  a  love  divine : 

That  the  mind's  transformed  estate, 

Exalt  above  the  spheres  of  vulgar 

life 

Where  greed  and  crime  and  fear 

are  ever  rife, 

May,  gazing  on  thy  beauty,  fine 

The  soul  whom  mortal  fates  consign 

To  warring  strife. 
21 


O  thou  pure  Essence  ever  lovely, 

Thou  whose  state  is  all  unknown, 
Thy  realm  I  have  beheld  above  me 
Gloried  with  some  splendor  rare 
That  o'er  our  state  a  moment  shone, 
Then  vanished  like  a  vision  of 

delight 
That  glows  in  beauty  o'er  our 
tranced  sight. 
Tho'  thou  art  gone  and  earth  is  drear 
Yet  shall  thy  image  glowing  fair 
Gleam  thro'  our  night, 


To  point  our  souls  to  realms  supernal 

From  the  gloom  of  carnal  state ; 

To  free  our  lives  in  spheres  eternal 

Prom  the  death-bonds  of  despair — 

Creature  of  our  sin  and  hate : 

That  life  may  cleave  of  venal  self 

the  pall, 

And  soaring  with  thee,  burst  the 

bands  that  gall 

With  false  deceivings'  empty  glare 

And  mockeries  of  greed  and  care, — 

A  wretched  thrall. 

22  ;; 


Thou  Might  of  Beauty  whom  the  vision 

Of  the  pure  and  great  descries, 
Who,  in  earth-scorn  and  derision, 
Struggle  on  alone  to  gain 
Heights  that  ever  loftier  rise, 

As  ever  dauntless  'mid  the  strife 

and  jeer 
Of  grov'ling  earth-desires  whose 
minions  leer 
With  scoff  and  taunt  upon  their  pain, 
Inspired  that  sky-goal  to  attain, 
So  far,  so  dear, 

Oh,  still  impel  them  with  thy  power 

That  their  lives,  on  earth  elate, 
Might  exalt  from  stations  lower, 
In  our  culture's  slavery-creed, 
Souls  of  men  whom  ruthless  fate 

Has  doomed  to  drudgery,  distress 

and  care — 
The  idols  reared  by  Mammon's 
progress  fair; 
And  those  ignobler  still  whose  greed 
Would  serfdom  grant  for  bravery's 
meed, 
For  toil, — despair. 

23 


Thou  art  that  Firmless  Substance  reign- 
ing 
In  thy  viewless  far  domain, — 
The  active  Stress  of  Soul,  sustaining 
Heavenward  by  thy  ccmstant  might 
Times  and  beings  else  inane 

And  spiritless  as  spheres  swung 

dead  thro'  space, 
Without  whose  life-transforming 
spirt-grace 
The  human  soul  in  fleshy  blight, 
That  then  could  see  no  sky-ward  height 
Would  sink  apace, 

To  indolent  content,  declining 
From  a  primal  spirit-state, 
To  sentient  life  of  flesh  consigning 
Beings  of  seraphic  soul, 
Formed  to  rise  beyond  earth-fate 

And  thrilled  with  infinite  aspirings 

pure 
To  climb,  by  thee  impelled,  to 
heights  secure 
Where  shrouds  of  paltry  life  unroll 
And  far  perfection's  lovely  goal 
Our  souls  a]lure. 

24 


Thou  radiant  Spirit  of  Endeavor, 

Soul  of  Beauty,  Hope  Divine, 
That  thrills  our  hearts  to  seek  thee  ever 
Far  above  life's  sin-gloomed 
sphere, — 
God-created  Might,  incline 

Thy  form  of  empyrean  Loveliness, 
That,  thrilled  with  radiant 
Beauty's  sweet  excess, 
Our  souls  with  mighty  love  may  rear 
Thy  glory-throne,  thou  Vision  dear 
Of  Perf  ectness. 


MAYING. 

Oh,  come  my  love,  day's  gates  unfold, 

And  bounteous  Apollo 
Is  melting  floods  of  mellow  gold 
O  'er  forest,  field  and  fallow. 
We  must  not  stay, 
We  must  away 
To  greet  the  glorious  suni 
To  revel  with  the  radiant  May 
'Bound  Summer's  golden  throne. 


The  birds  intone  their  gushing  hymns 
O  'er  stream  and  grove  and  meadow, 
The  brooklets  ripple  silvery  rhymes 
To  dancing  glint  and  shadow; 
The  flow 'rets  rare 
In  scented  air 
Lift  up  their  dew-lit  eyes, 
In  wonder  at  the  May-time  fair 
And  all  its  sweet  surprise. 


26 


We'll  join  the  eager,  festive  throng, 

With  bird  and  brook  and  flower, 
In  wild  delight  and  happy  song 
In  every  teeming  bower. 
Oh,  hurry,  dear, 
The  wanton  air 
Is  kissing  all  the  blooms, 
And  drinking  all  the  dew-drops  rare 
That  hide  in  jewelled  glooms. 


We'll  linger  in  the  haunted  wood 

With  thrushes'  rapture  thrilling, 
Sweet  spirit-tones  of  solitude 
Our  hearts  with  transport  filling. 
Or  on  some  height 
In  haloed  light 
We'll  stand  in  wonder  so, 
To  see  the  earth  in  radiance  bright 
So  pure  and  lovely  glow. 


27 


The  throbbing  silence  rich  with  tone, 

In  flowered  wood-dells  hushing, 
Shall  breathe  its  solemn  secret  lone 
With  glow  and  glamour  blushing. 
The  blissful  day 
Of  rapturous  May 
We'll  spend  with  elf  and  sprite, 
Like  children  charmed  by  fairy  play 
In  worlds  of  weird  delight. 


28 


THE  MINER. 

When  gentle,  silvery-vested  Dawn, 
Afloat  on  radiant  cloud-wreathes  white, 
Strews  from  her  trooping  splendors 
fair 
Light-spheres  of  flushing  pallor  wan 
That  faint  upon  the  pall  of  night — 

Like  waking  love  that  pales  despair — 
And  shrine  the  dark- veiled  earth  in 
light; 

The  miner  from  the  lustrous  earth, 
The  black  gulf  seeks  where  ghastful 
night 
Sinks  dank  in  hideous  murk  that  palls 
The  chilly  ooze  of  mucid  dearth. 
In  torpid  streams  of  sensate  might 
His  form  the  throbbing  darkness 
thralls, 
Engulfing  life  in  cheerless  blight. 


No  noonday  splendors  thrill  his  brain, 
No  evening  clouds  in  irised  light 
Flame  forth  God's  glory:  e'en  the 
flow'rs 
Their  beauties  blush  for  him  in  vain ; 
The  streams  flash  back  sky-glintings 
bright, 
And  hues  and  hymns  earth's  fairest 
bow'rs 
In  vain  o'erflood  with  day's  delight. 


Down  in  the  inky  deeps  he  toils, 
With  tireless  might, — the  slave  of  doom 
Whom  wealth  requites  with  pittance 
mean, 
Who  serves  the  world,  and  ceaseless  moils 
Where  lurking  dangers  dig  his  tomb, 
Where  danks'  and  chills'  distresses 
keen 
Exhaust  his  pow'r  in  joyless  gloom. 


30 


His  life,  a  waste  to  scorn  and  jeer 
Of  meaner  souls  that  lounge  in  light, 
Their  pleasures,  luxuries  and  dress 
Supplies,  rewarded  by  their  sneer. 
But  thro'  divine  laws'  changeless  plight 

The  vital  toil's  creative  stress, — 
That  action-force  transformed  to  might 

Of  soul, — exalts  the  growing  mind, 
And  deepens  broad  the  sympathy, 
Until  his  heart  has  mighty  grown, 
Whose  word  and  deed  in  fire  refined 
Reveals  a  life-nobility 
That  feels,  from  lowly,  toil-built 
throne, 
The  heart-throbs  of  humanity. 


31 


Who  suffers  most  shall  deepest  feel, 
And  farthest  see  with  eyes  keen  grown 
In  trials  severe  of  cruel  strife : 
No  shrunken  view  of  human  weal 
He  holds  whose  mighty  heart  doth  own 

A  tenderness  for  human  life, 
To  wealth's  soft-pampered  sense  un- 
known. 


And  so,  in  black-sunk  depths  of  night, 
Of  labor's  world  he  feels  the  throes 
Which  toil  has  wrought  before  his 
mind 
To  visions  grand  of  life,  whose  light 
Tho'  dim,  yet  from  God's  glory  flows. 
Unconscious,  still  his  heart  is  fined 
With  mighty  truths  that  scorn  life's 
woes, — 


Revealings  of  some  spirit-life 
Beyond  earth's  hollow  mockings  vain. 
The  stolid  sense  of  dueless  Ease 
By  sloth  close-shrunk  in  self-love  rife. 
Inert  of  heart  and  hand,  ne'er  gain 
Such  truths;  nor  shriveled  visions 
seize 
These  destinies  of  G-od  and  man. 


Yet  who  so  scorned  and  crushed  as  he, 
Begrimed,  fatigued  with  drudging 
moil, — 
The  serf  of  wealth  his  hands  create, 
The  sneer  of  fulsome  luxury? 
Ye  blind !    How  like  a  king,  whose  toil 
Doth  rule  the  world!    How  truly 
great, 
Who  gives  his  life  to  earth,  a  spoil ! — 


33 


A  king;  without  whose  sacrifice 
Of  day's  rare  charms  and  earth's 
delight, 
Of  joys  of  leisure,  friends  and 
home, — 
Without  whose  pains  and  death,  the  cries 
Of  blustered  progress'  vaunting  might, 
In  tawdry  bombast  would  sink  dumb, 
Its  glory  pale  aghast  in  night. 


What  foul  besmutched  infection  wide 
Exudes  its  venom 'd  rankling  stench 
O  'er  all  our  light !    What  reeking 
stain 
Of  heinous  self -sin  mocks  our  pride, 
And  taints  with  shame  no  pomp  can 
quench 
Our  lying  culture's  pageant  vain 
From  whose  defilement  slaves  would 
blench. 


34 


Amid  man's  frenzied  tumult  dire 
The  uncloyed  monster  Lust  doth  breed 
The  horrid  sprites  of  Hate  and  Strife, 
That  flames  his  slaves  with  mad  desire 
To  glut  on  human  hearts  their  greed. 
Ye  toiling  brave,  your  wasting  life 
Shall  fine  your  souls  for  Heaven's  meed! 


35 


THE  OHIO. 

Plow  raucous  and  roaring  rash,  stream 
ever  gliding, 

Thy  wavelets  all  flashing  and  rainbowed 
in  light. 

In  gloaming  or  sunlight  thy  constant  con- 
fiding 

Doth  breathe  a  great  calm  of  delight,  wild 
and  wide, 

As  thy  bosom  where  heaven  is  mirrored  so 
bright. 

The  shade  of  thy  darksome  hills  ever 
abiding 

Doth  merge  in  the  sheen  of  thy  rollicking 
billows. 

The  vapors  of  mazy  morn  hov'ring  yet 
hide, 

In  mantles  of  gray,  thy  wind- whiffled  wil- 
lows. 

Thy    bosom    reflecting    the    sky's    glory 
golden, 

Thy  hills  and  thy  forests,  to  lustre  soft- 
dyed, 

Betoken  that  Dawn  by  life's  myst'ries  en- 
folden. 

36 


Flow  dark  in  thy  dernful,  deep  glades, 
mighty  River, 

Ne'er  fitful  like  joy  and  despair  of  life's 
dream. 

Still    emblem    that    depthless    soul-flood 
lovely  ever, 

Resplendent  as  stars  burning  through  thy 
night-air. 

We  know  not  the  spirit  of  glooming  and 
gleam ; 

Nor  how  Heaven's  glories  that  flush  as 
they  quiver, 

Or  wane  'neath  the  shade  of  the  sallows 
that  mourn, 

Reveal,  to  our  vision  so  dimmed  in  life's 
care, 

Or  listless  in  pleasure  that  leaves  us  for- 
lorn, 

With  eloquence,  hush,  like  the  rainbow  of 
Heaven, 

That  Perfectness  imaged  in  vision  su- 
preme,— 

That  Beauty  divine,  for  our  human  souls 
given. 


37 


SERENADE. 
TO . 

Hush !    My  quiv'ring  heart,  my  own, 
Throbs  thro'  tingling  night  a  song. 
Hueless  dreams  of  happy  love 
O  'er  its  pulsed  pinions  throng. 
Ah,  the  wand 'ring  zephyrs  kiss 
Thrilling  lips  so  pallid  grown, 
Charmed  star-beams  blushful  rove 
O  'er  thy  brow  entranced  in  bliss. 


Still !    The  fainting  zephyrs  yearn 
Surging  fast  to  feel  the  glow 
Havened  in  thy  flushful  breast 
Where  my  heart  in  love's  sweet  woe 
Gasped  athrill  with  wild  delight. 
Creeping  glooms  that  ardent  burn 
Steal  thy  love-sigh, — sweet  behest 
Borne  on  dream- wings'  sky-lost  flight. 


Soft !  The  languored  moon  doth  wane : 
Plaintful  nightingales  are  still. 
E'en  the  river's  sobful  roar 
Hushes,  calmed  in  griefful  chill. 
Dearn  the  mournful  winds'  alarms 
Moan  thro'  voiceful  midnight's  pain. 
Dream !  Love  sleeps,  but  rests  no  more. 
Dream!    Love  swoons  in  Sorrow's  arms. 


MAN  THE  SPECTATOR  OF  GOD. 

Ah,   couldst   thou   mount   the   reachless 
throne  of  time, 

And,  with  a  view  as  broad  as  worlds  and 
deep 

As  heav'n,  couldst  pierce  the  mystery  of 
life, 

Then  shouldst  thou  learn  that  life  and  be- 
ing keep, 

Beneath  appearance  paltry  or  sublime, 

One  service  constant  'mid  earth-ragings 
rife, — 

One  being's  sphere,  one  soul-activity 

Exalt  beyond  the  mocks  of  joy  and 
crime, — 

The  Contemplation  of  Divinity. 


'Mid   ages    fathomless    and   worlds   un- 

thought, 
In  Heav'n  or  Hell,  in  stars  or  bournless 

space, 
Existence  finds  no  loftier,  mightier  throne. 

40 


The    Creant    Might,    with    unconceived 

Grace, 
Some  atom  of  the  godly  essence  wrought 
Into  the  soul  of  man,  that  mind  might  own 
The  pow'r  to  gaze  thro'  worlds  of  death 

and  life 
Full  on  the  awful  form  of  God,  whose  lot 
That  soul  may  grasp  and  hold,  that  from 

the  strife 


Of  earth-desires,  affections,  hate  and  fear 

Withdraws  to  secret  realms  of  holy 
thought. 

There,  freed  from  self,  shalt  thou  inter- 
pret God. 

Go  to  the  wilds  where  Nature,  harrowed 
not 

By  vulgar  hands,  unceasing  doth  revere 

Its  God;  whose  voiceful  harmony  doth 
laud 

That  perf ectness  it  manifests  above ; 

Whose  forms  and  tones  and  hues  divinely 
fair 

Reflect  its  worship  constant,  deep,  of  Love. 

41 


Behold  the  adoration  of  the  flow'r 

That  ever  hues  the  glories  of  its  King; 

And  hear  the  voiceful  throng  in  forest- 
fane 

Intone  the  rhapsodies  the  seraphs  sing. 

Or  lo,  the  softened  splendor  of  the  star 

That  flames  its  radiance  hued  to  Heav'n 
again, 

Whose  silence  speaks  its  contemplation 
pure. 

E'er  thus  should  life  conform,  'neath  Na- 
ture'spow'r, 

To  laws  divine  that  shall  alone  endure. 


The  soul,  that  atom  of  the  essence  divine, 
Engulfed  in  earthly  dross,  is  crushed,  sub- 
dued, 
Entrammeled  by  the  daily-forged  bond 
Of  passion,  want,  despair  and  fear, — the 

food 
Of  mocking  vanities  our  lives  confine 
To  serfdom  of  the  Flesh  on  earth  en- 
throned. 
And  could  we,  in  the  spirit's  purity, 

42 


Unfettered    worship    God    at    Nature's 

shrine, 

Our  human  state  would  rise  thro'  ecstasy 

« 
To  contemplate  the  Spectacle  of  God. 

The  shrouding  palls  of  common,  vulgar 

strife — 
That  wreaths  their  blackened  stains,  be- 
fouled with  grime 
Of  mean,  ignoble,  sordid  acts  of  life, 
About  our  narrow  view, — to  them  who  trod 
Humiliation's  vale  of  fear,  sublime, 
Become,  with  visioning  the  Heaven's  state, 
Interpreting  the  Essence  of  all  Good 
And  gazing  on  the  unveiled  Grace  of  Fate, 

Transforming  mediums  to  guide  the  sight 

To  search  the  clearer  spheres  of  radiance 
pure, 

Whither  the  soul,  of  earth  unfettered, 
mere, 

Aspires  to  soar,  from  strife  and  dross  se- 
cure. 

Oh,  lift  thine  eyes,  and  with  the  spirit's 
might 

The  Spectacle  of  Heav'n  behold, — revere; 

43 


And  with  God's  stars,  His  streams,  His 

flow'rs  and  sky 
Assume  the  haloed  glories  of  His  light, 
And  rise, — Companion  of  Divinity. 


44 


FOUR  LOVES. 

My  passion-love  soared  in  the  skies 

Of  thrilling  raptures,  radiant  bliss, 
With  throbbing  heart  and  yearning  eyes, 

With  wild  caress  and  swooning  kiss ; 
A  transport  rare  of  burning  joy, 

A  gushing  vow  of  fierce  desire, 
With  beauty  soft  and  warm  and  coy, 

And  tingling  glow  of  soul-pained  fire. 


My  worship-love  was  high  and  rare, 

In  realms  of  glamoured  mystery ; 
An  idol  lovely,  strangely  fair 

With  charm  of  dark  idolatry ; 
A  queen  enthroned  in  magic  thought, 

A  reachless  image  to  adore, 
Divine  with  dreams,  devotion-wrought, 

That  fill  my  soul  with  vain  implore. 


45 


My  own  true  love  was  pure  and  dear, 

With  thoughts  too  deep  for  passion's 
vow; 
With  tender  joys  and  gentle  care, 

And  trust  and  faith  that  overflow 
With  floods  of  cheer  my  troubled  life ; 

A  comfort  sweet,  companion  kind, 
In  all  the  worry,  woe  and  strife — 

An  angel-soul  for  earth  designed. 


My  human  love  was  great  and  broad 

And  spread  o  'er  all  the  world  of  man, 
Like  angels'  dreams  or  thoughts  of  God, 

And  far  and  wide  as  heaven's  span. 
It  thrilled  my  life  with  high  desire, 

It  filled  my  soul  with  radiant  might ; 
My  heart  was  warm  with  joyous  fire, 

And  earth  aglow  with  golden  light. 


46 


HOPE.— Sonnet. 

Brave  heart,  thy  dauntless  strain,  the 
stagnant  air 
With  vapors  fraught,  scarce  upward 

wafts, — athrill 
With  trustful  promise  tho'  the  world  is 
still 
In  faithless  boding  or  becalmed  despair — 
Shall  be  my  omen  of  life's  dawning  fair: 
For  thy  sweet  harmony  with  Nature's 
will 
Thy  light-impassioned  soul  doth  sudden  fill 
With  impulse  God's  great  goodness  to  de- 
clare. 
Pant  forth  thy  rhapsodies:  for  lo,  the 
day 
That  tarried  long  is  breaking  thro' 
gloom's  thrall; 
And  I  can  see  deep  thro'  the  misting 
gray 
The  azure  glows  that  burst  the  wav'r- 
ingpall; 
And  mellow  in  the  sun-flood's  flashing 
ray 
The   gloried   clouds  of   grief   day's 
splendor  swell. 

47 


THE  ROBIN. 

Up  and  away  ere  the  break  of  day, 

Lustily  hymning  the  dawn, 
Waking  the  year  to  the  spring's  glad  cheer, 

Through     garden     and     frost-covered 
lawn; 
Happy  thy  toil  in  the  teeming  soil — 
Robin,  dear  Robin  is  here. 


How  our  hearts  bound  at  the  startling 
sound 
Joyfully  calling  the  sun, 
Rousing  all  earth  to  its  thrilling  birth 

When  winter's  rude  thraldom  is  gone; 
Charming  the  day  from  its  night  glooms 

away, 
Glad  with  thy  tumult  of  mirth. 


48 


Fresh  art  thou  come  from  thy  southern 
home, 
Pure  as  the  cloud-tints  of  spring, 
Modest  and  bright  from  thy  airy  flight — 

What  infinite  blessings  you  bring ! — 
Calling  the  blooms  from  their  dark  wintry 

tombs 
Up  to  the  gladness  and  light. 


Bidding  the  cold  in  the  frosted  wold 

Yield  to  the  cordial  sun — 
Tokens  you  bring,  sweet  messages  sing 

That  buds  on  the  south  winds  have 
come; 
Angel  of  life  in  our  spiritless  strife, 
Herald  of  heavenly  spring. 


49 


Lowly  thou  art  and  common  thy  part, 
Dwelling  near  haunts  of  men, 

Warbling  thy  cheer  so  the  humble  may 
hear — 
A  pleasure  in  blessing  or  bane : 

Generous  bird,  thy  carols  are  heard 

With  joy  through  the  changing  year. 


Gentle  and  pure,  thy  presence  demure — 
Boon  of  kind  Nature's  art — 

Cheering  our  way  with  thy  innocent  lay, 
Chastens  our  sinful  heart ; 

Bids  us  below  all  good  to  bestow, 

And  love  in  our  common  day. 


50 


WEITTEN   UPON   THE   OCCASION 

OF  THE  DEDICATION  OF  THE 

TOMB  OF  WILLIAM  McKINLEY 

AT  CANTON,  OHIO,  SEPT.  30th, 

1907. 

How  dark  with  fearful,  life-depressing 

gloom 
That  awful  day  when  o'er  the  land  there 

spread, 
Like  early  blight  and  death  of  all  things 

dear, 
The  knell  of  our  great  leader's  threatened 

doom! 
Oh,  how  the  sun  dimmed  all  its  sorrowed 

cheer, — 
The  night,  how  still  and  black  with  shud- 

d'ring  dread! 
What  dumb  despair  and  pleading  anguish 

told 
The  whispered  fate  of  our  great  nation's 

chief, 
But  yesterday  exalted  in  the  praise 
Of  all  our  mighty  host !  What  dismal  grief 

51 


Was  ours, — oh,  how  our  hearts  grew  faint 

and  cold 
With  dread  suspense  and  woe  of  infinite 

days! 


But  didst  thou  deem  in  death  his  glory  lost, 
And  dimmed  in  night  the  splendor  of  his 

day, 
And  all  his  radiant  fame,  so  slowly  won 
Through  tireless,  groping  years  with  aw- 
ful cost 
Of  sleepless  labor,  strife  and  pain, — all 

gone 
In  that  one  moment  of  thy  dark  dismay? 
Ah,  faithless  ones!     Could  you  not  see 

through  night 
Of  agony  and  loss  death's  evening  sky 
Aglow  with  splendor  brighter  than  he 

knew 
While  here  on  earth?    Could  you  not  see 

him  lie 
Darkly   in   death,   yet   robed   in   spirit- 

light- 
All   helpless,   yet   enriched   with   power 

anew? 

52 


Behold  that  day  has  cornel     Now  shalt 

thou  see 
A  pageant  grander  than  all  triumph's 

great 
Of  our  dead  chief's  renowned  and  honored 

life, 
Behold  his  people  gath'ring  reverently 
And  nations  laying  down   their  varied 

strife, 
Fame's  triumph  over  death  to  celebrate, — 
Of  earth  the  last  and  greatest  victory  won ! 
Here,  then,  abides  our  chief's  immortal 

fame 
In  yonder  beauteous  and  radiant  tomb ; 
Here  Glory  shall  imprint  his  deathless 

name 
Deeper  than  on  its  gold  or  graven  stone 
Whose  splendor  white  dispels  sepulchral 

gloom. 


And  thou,  majestic  pile,  sublime  and  pure, 

Shielded  with  silvered  cloud  or  domed 
blue, — 

No  nobler  shrine  shall  greet  the  whiten- 
ing dawn, 

Through  time  with  brighter  glory  to  en- 
dure. 

So  mayst  thou  stand  when  years  and  states 
are  gone, 

The  tomb  of  him  we  loved, — the  great  and 
true, 

Erected  by  earth's  youngest,   mightiest 
race 

To  make  immortal  that  sweet  memory. 

Yet,  if  fell  time  might  darken  all  thy  light 

And  mar  thy  beauty, — if  strange  destiny 

Could  bring  thee  to  decay, — leave  not  a 
trace 

Of  all  thy  radiant  majesty  and  might, — 


54 


So  may  it  pass :  so  may  thy  splendor  wane 
To  dust  and  night.    Then  shall  immortal 

Fame, 
Unharmed  in  thy  material  decay, 
Arise  to  flourish  in  the  hearts  of  men 
While  memory  endures.    So  shall  the  day 
Of   glory   brighter   carve   his   deathless 

name, 
On  time's  abiding  scroll.    Yet  we  have 

prayed 
That  fate  may  ever  spare  thy  beauteous 

state, 
While  peoples  strange,  as  pilgrims,  hither 

move 
To  worship  at  this  shrine  we  consecrate, — 
A  glorious  tribute  to  our  honored  dead — 
Last  token  of  our  Nation's  deathless  love. 


55 


THE  FIRST  SNOW-FALL. 

In  what  majestic  silence,  like  a  thing 
Of  mystery  and  pow'r,  the  snow-flakes 
fall— 
A  spirit  toiling  secretly  to  bring 
To  dead,  brown  earth  her  beauteous 
funeral  pall! 
Oh,  radiant  token  of  arising  life 
That  once  with  other  Springs  shall  come 
to  all, 
When  Winter's  chill  and  melancholy 
strife 
Shall  break  with  bursting  Day's  return- 
ing thrall ! 
Oh,  joy  to  youth  as  fresh  and  white  as 
thou, 
To  see  thee  fill  the  air  with  crystal 
show'r, 
For  Christmas  cheer  and  happy  giving 
now 
Will  bless  all  loving  hearts  with  thrill- 
ing pow'r; 
For,  purer  than  these  snow-gems  from 

above, 
Christ  gave  to  men  the  gift  of  Infinite 
Love! 

56 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  MARS. 

Among  the  countless  host  of  constant  stars 
That  fill  our  bounded  universe  of  night, 
The  baffling  mystery  of  changeful  Mars 
Evades  our  utmost  pow'rs  of  spirit- 
sight. 
What  destiny  is  thine,  what  being  strange, 
Amid  the  planet-spheres  of  mirrored 
light, 
That  circle  round  thee  in  their  wondering 
range? 


The  all-pervading  view  thou  dost  elude 
Of  bold  imagination's  farthest  flight; 
And    science,    thwarted    with    resources 
crude, 
Doth  gaze  and  guess,  and  doubt  the 
startled  sight. 
Yet,  were  we  gods  to  plan  some  noble  fate 

Of  life  ideal  for  our  human  plight, 
We  clearly  should  perceive  thy  lofty  state. 


57 


There  was  a  time  when  men  were  great  in 
thought, 
And  rich  in  lack  of  wealth's  debasing 
dearth ; 
When  statesman,  poet,  artist  dreamed  and 
wrought 
For  that  ideal  kinship  of  the  earth, 
When  man  in  every  clime  and  state  should 
be 
United  in  the  bonds  of  human  worth, 
Inspired  with  universal  sympathy. 


That  vast  conception  we  can  learn  from 
thee — 
The  highest  wish  and  greatest  good  to 
man — 
For  o'er  thy  ruddy  land  and  banded  sea 
One   power    rules — one    all-embracing 
plan 
That  stores  thy  wealth,  create  by  sun  and 
rain, 
In  mighty  works  that  all  thy  surface 
span, 
To  bless  thy  happy  race  with  plenty's 
reign. 

58 


The  wondrous  structures  that  thy  realm 
affords 
Were    built    by    creatures    great    in 
strength  and  mind, 
Where  wisdom  with  necessity  accords — 

United  aim  to  public  need  confined. 
Thy    people,    wise    beyond    all    mortal 
thought, 
By  want  and  cold  and  ageless  time  re- 
fined, 
Have  learned  all  lore  relentless  Nature 
taught. 


One  purpose,  one  harmonious  spirit 
reigns, 

To  win  for  life  all  joy  and  common  good ; 
To  hoard  the  sun's  far  energy  that  wanes, 

And  living  waters  in  their  melting  flood ; 
To  gain  from  Nature  ample  food  and  dress, 

In  one  vast  cheer  of  sacred  brotherhood, 
In  glad  employ  and  toiling  happiness. 


No  strife  is  there,  no  wars  of  kings  and 
pow'rs, 
Nor  famine  reigns  in  all  that  realm  of 
peace ; 
No  plague  infests,  or  killing  blight  devours 
The  cherished  harvests  in  their  full  in- 
crease : 
For  one  law  rules  o'er  all  that  broad  con- 
fine, 
Supplies  all  want  and  treasures  all  ex- 
cess, 
The  highest  good  to  all — the  sole  design. 


Is  this  the  lost  Utopia,  this  the  sphere 
Where  love  is  law,  and  service — happi- 
ness? 
Where  beauty  pure  of  art  and  nature  rare, 
With  strifeless  effort,  doth  all  being 
bless? 
Earth  yet  may  learn  through  ages  of  vast 
pain, 
Through  war  and  famine,  waste  and 
greed's  excess, 
Such  glorious  doom — the  Brotherhood  of 
Man. 

60 


THE  POET'S  RHAPSODY. 

On  the  golden  floods  of  noontide's  glow 
When    the    summer-glory    flushed    its 
beams 
And  the  fleecy  cloud-ships  floated  slow 

Asurge  on  the  azure  ocean-sky 
Where   their   silvered   sails   dissolve   in 

light- 
On  the  wings  of  strange  delight's  love- 
dreams 
To  the  vaults  of  Heaven  my  soul's  wild 
flight 
In  frenzied  bliss  arose  on  high 
With  the  whirling  phantoms'  wild 'ring 
flow 
Of  dreams  and  visions  pulsing  nigh. 


In  its  joyance  fierce  light-spheres  among 
Its  impetuous  pinions  whirled  and  sped 

While  the  bursting  thrills  of  love-fires 
flung 
Their  bliss  to  Heaven's  bournless  height. 

61 


On  the  golden,  silvery  glory-sea 
By  its  phantom  dreams  inspirited 

It  was  wafted  wild  in  throbbing  glee 
To  realms  where  angels'  tranced  flight 

In  their  splendors  gush. — Here  thrilled  it 
hung, 
Then  hovering  waned  in  fainting  might. 


Prom  its  wings  the  feathered  light-spheres 
fled 
Prom  the  awesome  Ecstasy  divine 
To  whose  throne  its  gushing  bliss  had  sped 

Of  frenzied  love,  that,  sky-lost,  pales. 
All  its  phantom-dreams  of  irised  light 

In  the  palling  gloom  to  sad  repine 
Were  enthralled ;  and  where  the  cloud- 
ships  white 
Slow  droop  and  fold  their  glooming 
sails, 
All  aswoon  on  even's  pallor  dead, — 
My  soul-love  sinks  'mid  night's  hushed 
veils. 


62 


TO  WINTER. 

The  skies  are  gray,  the  earth  is  white 
With  blinding  brilliance  of  thy  light, 
And  all  around  the  frost-chained  ground 
Reveals  the  triumph  of  thy  might. 
What  pow'r  of  death  and  dearth  is  thine, 
Stern  spell,  to  hold  all  nature  bound 
With  robes  of  ice  in  firm  confine ! 


The  sun's  faint  disc  has  turned  awry 
And  northward  struggles  up  the  sky, 
Forsaking  all  to  thy  rude  thrall — 
Deserting  earth's  fair  blooms  to  die. 
Oh,  where  rich  summer's  hued  array, 
The  green  of  spring,  the  gold  of  fall  ? — 
All  blanched  and  wan  with  ashen  gray. 


Thy  pigments  are  the  frosted  panes — 

Cold  traceries  of  crystal  stains, 

When  heat  and  cold  in  contrast  bold 

Spin  dainty  films  of  silvery  veins. 

Thy  blooms  are  heaps  of  storm-massed 

snows 
Of  sparkling  frost-stars'  marvelous  mold 
Enthralling  earth  in  wintry  throes. 


From  gases  rare  thy  vestments  form, 
Distilled  in  air,  congealed  in  storm, 
And  cover  all  with  solid  pall — 
A  winding-sheet  for  summer's  charm; 
Her  myriad  leaves  and  plants  and  blooms, 
Where  burned  the  sun-gleam's  swelt'ring 

thrall, 
All  dead  and  whit'ning  in  their  tombs. 


64 


What  pow'r  can  cause  such  violent  change, 
What  law  produce  such  mighty  range 
In  nature's  course — the  mystic  source 
Of  infinite  mutations  strange  ? 
Ah,  could  our  feeble  sense  behold 
The  one  supreme  designing  force 
Of  law  minute  and  manifold ! 


Oh,  could  we  guess  the  spirit-powers 
That  change  the  mould  of  earth  to  flowers, 
The  mists  of  air  to  crystals  rare — 
Dissolved  to  spring's  delicious  showers! 
Life's  ordained  mysteries  unfurled — 
How  deep  the  secrets  we  should  share, 
How  wonderful  our  common  world ! 


HOAR  FROST. 

A  waif  of  mystery  am  I, 
A  sprite  of  secrecy  and  night ; 

I  creep  beneath  the  distant  sky 
While  stars  are  glowing  cold  and  bright : 

The  winds  must  sleep  in  sky-caves  deep, 

And  all  the  earth  in  stillness  lie. 


The  autumn  sun  with  balmy  charms 
Has  upward  drawn  the  misty  pall, 

Dissolved  the  clouds  in  her  warm  arms 
Forsaking  earth  to  night's  cold  thrall. 

The  pearly  dew,  that  moon-beams  hue 

With  hidden  glints  in  mazy  swarms, 


Has  gathered  from  the  moveless  night 
And  breathing  verdure.    In  the  cold 

Of  secret  morn  I  spread  my  blight — 
A  bridal  veil  of  silvery  mould, 

A  frozen  charm  of  many  a  form 

Of  crystal  jewels  rare  and  white. 


The  dawn  looks  down  with  wondering 
eyes, 

For  when  the  pale  stars  westering  go,- 
I  tint  their  gleams  with  strange  disguise 

And  form  a  million  stars  below ; 
A  dazzling  fold  of  gems  I  mold — 
A  wonder  all  man's  art  defies. 


Alas,  my  marvelous  array, 

My  infinite  creations  fair 
Must  soon  dissolve  and  fade  away — 

A  formless  mist  in  morning  air : 
And  humankind  to  beauty  blind 
Plod  on  their  sightless,  care-gloomed  way. 


But  where  I  hovered  o'er  the  wood 
With  loving  spell  and  charmed  kiss, 

It  glows  with  blushes  softly  hued 
With  crimson  pain  and  mellow  bliss ; 

And  autumn  noon  in  golden  swoon 

Strews  dying  flowers  where  I  stood. 


A  wondrous  infinite  array, 

A  glorious  bane,  like  love  and  woe, 
I  blight  the  bloom  with  rare  display 

To  leave  it  gorgeous  at  noon's  glow. 
A  marvel  rare  divinely  fair, 
Unseen  I  vanish  with  the  day. 


THE  COTTAGERS. 
To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D. 

High  on  the  hill  whose  verdant  brow 
First  meets  the  gold  of  waking  sun 
And  mingles  its  green  with  heaven's  glow, 
There  stands  a  white  cot  whose  lattice  low 
Peeps  modestly  out  at  breaking  dawn, — 
Par  o'er  the  city's  raucous  strife, 
That  fetters  low  its  jangling  life. 


Tiny  it  stands  thro'  mists  agleam, 

Exalt  above  the  murky  pall, 

Where  whispering  winds  their  murmurs 

hymn, 
And  day's  flitting  beams  thro'  shadows 

stream 
That  fitfully  dance  o'er  garden  and  wall. 
With  luxury's  fulsome  wants  unknown, 
What  sweet  content  their  glad  hearts  own ! 


Down  'mid  the  city's  tumult  dire 
The  husband  labors,  faithful,  true, 
Till  eve,  when  the  sun's  last  gloried  fire 
With  crimson  doth  light  day's  funeral- 
pyre; 
Then  homeward  he  turns,  'mid  gathering 

dew, 
To  meet  his  anxious  wife  whose  kiss 
Soft  thrills  his  throbbing  heart  with  bliss. 


Mighty  of  heart  and  strong  of  hand, 
His  power  beseems  a  king  uncrowned. 
His  fathomless  spirit  hath  command 
O'er  destined  worlds  whose  limits  grand 
He  grasps  in  his  soul's  wide,  viewless 

bound; 
For  faith  unmoved  in  God's  great  love 
Exalts  to  reachless  heights  above. 


70 


Brave  with  a  might  the  fondled  sense 
Of  pride  and  wealth  can  never  know, 
And  strong  in  a  faith  no  ill's  offence 
Can  move  from  its  final  haven ;  thence 
There  floods  o'er  his  soul  a  calm  love-glow 
That  shrines  in  constant  peace  his  life, — 
A  giant  soul  'mid  human  strife. 


Yet,  was  he  gentlest  of  the  wise, 
Whose  loving  word  and  smile  would  cheer 
The  heart  with  their  tender  sympathies : 
While  lighting  his  world  like  paradise, 
The  day-gleams  of  love  spread  broad  and 

clear. 
Aglow  with  radiant  glory  shone 
Her  love  whose  life  was  all  his  own. 


Beauty,  perhaps,  of  form  and  face, 

As  in  glad  youth  blushed  not  so  bright ; 

But  dearer  than  Nature's  sweetest  grace, 

Those  spirit-loves  pure  their  image  trace 

On  features  aglow  with  soft  soul-light. 

Ah,  who  so  fair  of  soul  as  she, 

The  child  of  love  and  purity  I 

71 


Spirits,  methinks,  from  worlds  unseen, 
In  tenderest  pow'r  their  vigils  keep, 
And,   flushing   like    dawn's    soft-gloried 

sheen, 
Or  harmony's  flow,  their  hearts  serene 
Enwreathe  with  an  essence  sweet  and  deep, 
Diffused,  as  hues  and  odors  rare 
And  carols  flood  the  summer  air. 


Happy  is  he  who  knows  such  love 
As  constant  thrills  yon  modest  home. 
Earth's  harrowing  strife  exalt  above 
No  envying  wealth  its  calm  can  move. 
When  loveless  and  cold  I  lonely  roam, 
Thro'  night  I  see  in  trancing  dreams 
That  love-throne  wreathed  in  Heaven's 
beams. 


72 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  MAN. 

Deep  in  that  secret  age  of  primal  doom 
When  black-robed  Myst'ry  from  her  cav- 

erned  throne, 
Upreared  of  ebon  night  and  palled  in 

gloom, 
Her  dusking  flood  surged  dark  o'er  being's 

plight 
Formless  and  lifeless  in  the  dim  unknown 
And  wrapped  in  sable  shrouds  of  moveless 

night 
Sluggish  with  sullen  chaos'  torpid  reign, — 
The  shapeless  mass  of  entity  stretched 

prone, — 
The  prime  existence  in  the  vast  inane. 


In  the  beginning,  God,  the  Creant  Might 
From  sourceless  void  the  earth  and  heav'n 

did  rear, 
When  awful  o'er  the  reign  of  primal  Night 
There  burst  with  spirit-thrilling  pow'r  the 

word, 

78 


Dread  with  the  terror  of  distorting  f  eai 
To  hideous  Night  with   ghastly  horror 

stirred, — 
1 '  Let  there  be  Light. ' '    Then  o  'er  the  long 

dismay 
Of  rolling   earth   slow  moulding  to  its 

sphere 
There  flashed  the  radiance  white  of  mighty 

day.  # 


From  sources  by  God's  everlasting  throne 
The  forces  strange,  inspired  with  pristine 

might, 
The  glowing  fire  empyreal  bore  down 
To  fuse  the  shapeless  earth-globe  into 

form, 
And  purge  thro'  rolling  ages'  rapid  flight 
Its  fluid  mass,  and  inert  bulk  transform 
From  crude  existence  to  that  wondrous 

frame 
Exalt  amid  the  myriad  spheres  of  light, 
Thro'  worlds  and  times  God's  glory  to  pro- 
claim. 


74 


O'er  gloried  floods  of  crystal  waves  where 
reigned 

Mutation  dark  that  formed  with  pow'r  su- 
blime 

Those  mighty  evolutions  God-ordained, 

Moved  forth,  with  splendor  that  outshone 
the  sun 

With  first  effulgence  flamed  undimmed  by 
time, 

The  Creant  Spirit;  at  whose  sovereign 
tone 

The  flooding  waters  that  arose  in  might, 

Inspired  with  awe,  turned  back  their  hast- 
ing stream 

Deep  to  their  caverns  gloomed  in  paling 
light. 


Then  thro'  the  glinting  waste  of  bournless 
gray 

The  teeming  land  from  its  long  prison- 
sleep 

Arose  entranced  to  gaze  upon  the  day. 

And,  from  her  exile  where  she  crouched  in 
dread, 

75 


He  bade  the  Night  come  forth,  with  day  to 

keep 
Divided  reign;  and  o'er  her  black  robes 

shed 
Those  starry  gems  that  with  the  silv'ry 


moon, 


Her  attendant  fair,  should  guard  earth's 
slumbers  deep; 

While  o'er  the  day  should  reign  the  radi- 
ant sun. 


The  winds  and  waves  asurge  with  spirit- 
might 
Freed  from  their  chasmy  homes  then  roved 

at  will, 
In  everlasting  labor,  with  delight 
Guideless  and  wild  save  by  the  ceaseless 

reign 
Of  bold  Mutation  fitful  by  whose  thrill 
The  forces  of  the  elements  amain 
Arose,  inspired  as  with  the  creant  stress, — 
Vague  worlds  of  airs  and  floods  and  fires, 

— to  fill 
With    action    violent    earth's    distorted 
space. 

76 


The  rocks  in  wondrous  metamorphic  state 
Assumed  their  forms,  dissolved  and  reared 

again ; 
And  thro'  their  fissured  mass  the  veins 

create 
Of  fused  gold  and  silver  poured  their 

streams. 
And  where  the  mountains  rose  with  might 

amain 
And  raised  their  regal  heads  amid  the 

gleams 
Of  azure!  heaven,  lo,  their  fabrics  strange, 
Evolved  in  crystals  bright  of  varied  vein, 
To  marble  pure  and  flinty  granite  change. 


While  Alteration  vast  thrilled  with  its 
strife 

The  transformed  world,  the  Creant  Spirit 
passed 

O'er  earth's  bright  face,  and  all  its  teem- 
ing life 

In  full  exuberance  of  early  pow'r 

Sprang  up  in  copious  wealth, — profusion 
massed 

77 


Of  thick  and  shadowed  growth  of  tree  and 

flow'r, 
Of  shrub  and  grass,  that  earth  in  wealth 

arrayed, 
'Mid  whose  luxuriance  the  myriads  vast 
Of  beast  and  fowl  and  every  creature 

strayed. 

But  ever  thro'  Mutation's  varied  toil 
And  sleepless   forces'  mingled  conflicts 

drear 
There  rose  and  reigned  throughout  the 

vast  turmoil 
A  harmony  divine. — No  act  or  sound, 
No  thunder  of  the  crashing  mountain- 
sphere, 
No  sough  of  wind,  no  ocean-surge  pro- 
found, 
No  leaping  light,  no  force,  no  entity 
That  mingled  not  its  enthean  power  mere 
With  one  celestial,  constant  symphony. 

The  waters  toiling  ceaseless  in  the  sands 
With  myriad  voices  joined  the  solemn 
hymn. 

78 


The  living  rocks,  the  surging  ocean- 
strands, 

The  rending  hills,  the  fiery  forges'  toil 

With  flame  and  thunder,  e'en  the  day- 
light's gleam, 

And  constant  moans  of  primal  winds  that 
moil 

Where  frosts  and  floods  their  caverned 
homes  devise, 

With  stilled  whisp 'rings  or  with  grand  ac- 
claim 

Intone  the  awful  secret  to  the  skies. 

All  being  chanted  glad  the  symphony. 

The  music  of  the  springing  grass,  the  tones 

The  forest-solitudes  in  majesty 

Outbreathe,  the  songsters'  warblings 
thro'  the  glades, 

The  gorgeous-mantled  insects'  summer- 
drones 

Hummed  thro'  the  wildered  marshlands' 
slumb'rous  shades, 

The  growl  that  frights  the  forest's  sanctity 

All  utter,  spirit- voiced,  to  Heaven's 
thrones 

The  ancient-hymned,  the  solemn  augury. 

79 


What  song  do  those  vast  tones  of  Nature 

raise? — 
The  Prophecy,  the  harbinger  of  Man, — 
He   who,   create   to   hymn   his   Maker's 

praise, 
In  God's  majestic  image  rose,  a  king, 
A  spirit,  o'er  the  gloried  earth  to  reign; 
To  whom  all  Nature  should  her  homage 

sing; 
For  whose  delight  yon  mountain  reared  its 

head 

Sublime  amid  the  irised  clouds'  domain, 
And  glinting  streams  their  mirrored  splen- 
dors shed. 


Those  trees  and  flow'rs  where  landscapes 

varied  roll, — 
Their  slopes  and  hills  arrayed  in  placid 

grace, — 
In  beauty  rose,  responding  to  his  soul ; 
While  myriad  forms,  with  teeming  life 

inspired, 
For  his  divine  emotions,  in  their  dress 
Of  perfect  loveliness  arose  attired. 
His  soul  was  tuned  to  Nature's  harmony, 

80 


That  all  her  pow'rs  should  his  command 

confess, 
And  join  his  soul  to  hymn  God's  majesty. 


In  his  Creator's  holy  image  formed, 
Exalt  almost  to  angels'  realm  divine, — 
A  spiritual  existence,  soul-conformed 
To  pure  divinity, — to  live  above 
All  mortal  strife  of  narrow  earth's  con- 
fine,— 
With  stainless  purity  of  mighty  love 
To  rise,  a  king  above  the  soulless  dross 
Of  carnal  flesh,  with  spirit  to  refine 
The  passing  life  to  longed-for  perfect- 
ness — 


0  God !    Are  we,  corrupt  in  sin  and  crime, 
Debased  in  greed  and  self-desires  vain — 
In  carnal  being's  vulgar  drose  and  grime, 
That  Soul  create  by  Thee  to  rule  all  life, 
And   with    divine   aspirings   Heav'n   to 

gain?— 
Are  we,  the  abject  in  our  loveless  strife, 


The  Pinal  Purpose  of  Thy  first  commands, 
Por  whom  all  life  and  earth  Thou  didst 

ordain, — 
The  Spirit  perfect  from  Thy  love-thrilled 

hands? 


It  cannot  be !    O  man,  deceived  and  vain 

By  whose  self -exultation's  vanity 

We  mock  with  haggish  crime  the  Master's 

reign, 
The  consummation  of  His  wondrous  plan, 
On  earth  cursed  with  our  vile  iniquity, 
A  loftier  fulfillment  shall  attain, — 
An  empyrean  state  where  Love  alone 
Divine  shall  rule  the  soul-existence  free, 
And  in  our  midst  erect  His  deathless 

throne. 


82 


THE  SONG  SPAKROW. 

In  all  the  world  of  sound  and  sight, 
Or  realms  of  wondrous  art, 

In  mem'ry's  sphere  or  fancy's  might 
In  earth  or  heav'n  or  heart, 

I  know  no  song  as  sweet  and  dear 

As  thine,  thou  darling  of  the  year. 


In  warmth  or  cold,  in  sun  or  rain, 

Tour  constant  spirit  thrives ; 
Prom  dawn  till  dark  your  trustful  strain 

Thrills  o  'er  our  doubting  lives. 
In  gloom,  you  know  the  sun  will  glow, 
In  cold,  that  zephyrs  warm  will  blow ; 


And  from  the  fence  or  lowlv  bush, 

With  head  uplifted  high, 
You  trill  your  hymn  with  blissful  gush 

To  God's  most  gracious  sky. 
Oh,  prophet  of  a  hope  divine, 
I  would  my  faith  were  deep  as  thine  !— 


That  I  could  see,  through  all  the  gloom 
Of  want  and  greed  and  pain, 

The  peace  and  joy  on  earth  to  come 
In  virtue's  happy  reign ! 

Then  could  I  sing  with  heavenly  art, 

And  move  to  love  the  grateful  heart. 


84 


THE  INDIAN. 

Ye  soughing  winds,  how  sad  ye  waft  and 
slow 

O  'er  this  lone  height  your  sobf  ul  threnody ; 

Here  where  the  wild,  dark  wilderness  of 
woe 

Its  tangled  glooms  with  thy  love-sighs  im- 
bued,— 

Where  raucous  strifes  of  earth  thy  mel- 
ody, 

With  scathful,  venomed  bane,  have  not 
defiled. 

Nor  shall  the  slaving  sprite  of  mortals  low 

O'er  thy  long  reign  its  mocking  rage  in- 
trude. 

Thou   homeless,   undoomed   pow'r,   thou 
spirit  wild, 

Thou  sacred  voice  of  ancient  solitude. 


O'erflush  the  silence  with  thy  doleful 

waves 
And  chant  thy  breathed  dirge  to  quiv'ring 

leaves. 

85 


And  thou,  lone  songster,  o'er  my  fathers' 

graves, 
Thy  requiem  hymn. — I  only,  from  that 

dim, 
Vast,  vanished  throng,  for  whom  thy  spirit 

grieves 
With  my  own  soul,  O  forest,  mighty,  calm, 
That  solemn  guards  the  sleep  of  noble 

braves, — 
Am  left,  a  wand'rer  from  a  world  sublime, 
A  ray  whose  setting  star  yet  sheds  its  balm 
Of  stainless  glory  o'er  the  spheres  of  time. 

And  I  have  come  to  thee,  beloved  soul 

Of  tranquil  Nature,   from  the  world's 
alarms, — 

Once  pure  as  were  those  streams  that 
placid  roll 

Eeflecting  now  those  sky-realms  where 
doth  dwell 

The  Great,  Good  Spirit. — Thou  in  whose 
dear  arms 

My  heart  and  mind  were  nourished  in  His 
care, — 

O  Mother  of  our  Race,  whose  sweet  con- 
trol 

86      • 


The  pure,  the  brave,  the  free  didst  e'er 
impel, 

I  come  from  out  the  scorned  world's  de- 
spair 

And  hated  rage,  to  bid  a  last  farewell. 


Farewell  to  thee,  thou  barren,  mist-robed 

hills, 
Blue  in  the  gath'ring  twilight's  shadowed 

charm, 
Whose    sides,    once   chasmy   with   their 

bounding  rills, 
And    forest-heights     that     pierced    the 

fringed  sky- 
Lie  abject  'neath  the  coarse-exalted  form 
Of  pompous  " culture"  whose  distorting 

flood 
Doth  mock  with  strife  the  calm  earth- 
realm  it  fills. 
Thou  pure  Ohio,  flowing  placid  by, 
Still  dost  thou  mirror  on  thy  breast  the 

cloud 
And    arching    sallow    bending    verdant 

nigh;— 

87 


To  thee  who  scorns  man's  ruinous  evil  fell, 
In  whose  pure  calm  I  feel  divinity, — 
Thou  who  hast  taught  me  peace  and  rest, 

— farewell. 
And  ye,  swift  coursing  streamlets,  still  un- 

marred 
By  hands  degenerate,  whose  waters  free 
Have  quenched  my  thirst  with  more  than 

fluid-draught 
When  o'er  my  soul  your  purity  did  well, — 
And   thou,    dark,    solemn    forest    whose 

storm-scarred 
And  mighty  grandeur,  with  thy  spirit- 
craft, 
Bestowed   on  me   thy  noblest,   best   re- 
ward,— 


Farewell,  farewell!    I  shall  not  see  thee 

more 
With  mortal  eyes,  yet  in  my  spirit's  migTit 
Thy  calm,  pure,  noble  grandeur,  e'er  be- 
fore 
My  tranced  sight,  shall  in  its  glory  rise, 
And   guide   my   dreams   from   earth    to 
Heaven's  light; 

88 


And  like  the  essence  of  a  Love  Divine 
Inspirited  in  angel-forms,  restore 
My  heart  to  sin-lost  realms  of  paradise ; 
And  'mid  the  crimeful  strife  of  man,  shall 

fine, 
With  Love,  my  soul  for  the  Great  Spirit's 

skies. 


In  those  lost  days  which  thou,  dark  forest- 
fanes 

Alone  dost  hymn  in  solemn  harmony, 

This  circling  land  of  hammocks,  streams 
and  plains 

Was  all  out  own  who  roamed  its  bounds  at 

win, 

To  seek  the  savage  bear  that  haunted  free 
This  very  forest,  where,  from  rocky  height 
I  look  across  the  saddened  stream  where 

reigns 
Man's  vaunted  progress  and  its  monstrous 

ill; 

And  where  yon  crime-stained  city  mocks 

the  light, 
And  life  with  lust  and  selfishness  doth 

fill,— 

89 


There  on  the  fertile  holm  the  tepees  rude 
Of  my  lost  tribe  once  pointed  to  the  sky ; 
And  there  our  prophets  in  the  silent  wood 
Communed  with  the  Great  Spirit  whose 

behest 
We  strove  to  follow:     for  His  presence 

nigh 
All-seeing,  would  reward  the  souls  of  men 
According  as  their  deeds  were  bad  or  good. 
And  we  were  taught  to  love  all  men,  and 

rest 
In  peace, — yet  bravely  live  beneath  the 

ken 
Of  Him  who  gave  all  fowl  and  fish  and 

beast. 


Then  with  the  waning  moon  the  pale-face 
came. 

Our  sacred  groves,  our  ancient  hunting- 
grounds, 

With  wily  craft  and  lies,  their  own  did 
claim. 

And  where  their  feet  in  desecration  passed 

A  baneful  blight  and  desolation  frowns. 

We  strove  their  rankling  greed  to  pacify, 

90 


And  live  in  peace,  despite  disgrace  and 

shame 
Their  presence  brought,  whose  vice  and 

crimes  o'ercast 
Our  virtues  rude  with  their  foul  culture's 

dye, 
At  whose  iniquity  we  stood  aghast. 


They  told  us  of  the  Christ,  the  white  men 
slew, 

To  save  us  from  despair,  from  sin  and 
hate; 

To  teach  us  peace  and  meekness, — to  sub- 
due 

In  tolerance,  our  wills  to  destiny. 

We  trusted.   But  their  greed  insatiate 

Despoiled  our  forest-wilds,  our  holms  and 
streams ; 

Destroyed  our  peace,  and  taught  us  to  pur- 
sue 

Their  ways  befouled  with  self's  iniquity. 

They  lied,  deceived,  whose  pledges  false 
and  schemes 

Our  tribe  impelled  to  desperate  misery. 

91 


Their  armies  swarmed  about  us.  We  were 
slaves 

In  our  own  homes  and  lands, — possessions 
fair 

Where  quenchless  lust  and  cruelty  our 
graves 

In  ruthless  fate  prepared.  O  'er  God 's  do- 
main 

We  wandered  from  the  scene  of  life's  de- 
spair,— 

Far  from  our  loved  abodes,  our  streams 
and  hills, 

Our  sacred  solitudes,  our  forest-caves, 

To  distant  hunting-grounds  where  naught 
could  stain, 

With  culture's  greedful  crimes  and  thou- 
sand ills 

Of  Despot-Serfdom,  Nature's  hallowed 
reign. 


But  like  vindictive  doom  they  followed 
near. 

Beneath  the  grasping  might  of  glutton- 
foes 

92 


We  saw  our  homes,  our  hopes  and  all 

things  dear, 
Our  lives,  our  race  ravaged  in  heinous 

waste. 
Then,  with  a  mighty  hate  conceived  of 

woes, 
Of  broken  faith,  of  hunger  and  despair. 
Implacable  as  doom  that  knew  no  fear, 
Our  rage  we  sated  by  our  slaughter  vast : 
Our  fury  gorged  on  blood  no  foe  did  spare. 
We  slew,  we  bled,  we  died, — but  undis- 

graced. 


Ah,  was  I  dreaming  thro'  the  evening 
hour?— 

O  Spirit  Great,  how  fallen  are  thy  sons ! 

How  crushed,  how  vanished  is  their  an- 
cient pow'r, — 

The  mighty  and  the  brave,  the  pure  and 
free, — 

Their  race  as  ancient  as  yon  stream  that 
runs 

And  silvery  gleams  of  melting  day  out- 
flings— 

93 


Here  primal  born  where  Nature's  spirit 

pure 
Attunes  the  soul  to  Heaven's  harmony, — 
Far  nobler  than  the  loftiest  race  of  kings, 
And  braver  than  their  mightiest  progeny ! 


Ye  feeble  slaves  of  these  degenerate  days, 
Ye  sordid  serfs  of  mean  age  ye  defile, 
Whose  false  refinement  ye,  base  fawners, 

praise, 
My  soul  whose  hopes  with  my  race  ye  have 

slain — 
The  pure,  the  noble — scorns  your  venomed 

guile, 
Your  selfishness,  impurity  and  vice ! 
It  loathes  your  cultivation's  vile  disease 
That  teaches  all  the  infected  greed  of  gain ; 
That  sells  your  brothers'  lives  for  avarice ; 
That  fouls  your  souls  with  myriad  sins' 

black  stain; 


That  forces  half  your  sons  to  drudge  and 

moil, 
And  give  their  lives  of  shame  and  misery, 

94 


Degraded,  pleasureless,  for  them  to  toil 
Whose  glutton-greed  cloys  on  the  lives 

they  enslave; 
That  mocks  at  merit,  truth  and  bravery, 
And  scorns  with  shame's  reward  the  pure 

and  good! 
Arise,  ye  slaves !   The  ground  ye  now  defile 
With  hollow  mockeries  from  Virtue's 

grave, 
With  venal  lusts'  hypocrisy  to  God, 
Was  hallowed  by  the  mighty,  noble  brave. 

O  Mother  of  the  Brave,  bewail  with  me 
My  vanished  race, — the  lost,  forgotten 

throng 
Thy  spirit  sweet,  in  nurture  pure  and  free, 
Instructed  deep  in  life's  mysterious  truth : 
For  here  upon  their  graves  thy  solemn 

song 
Bemoans,  in  their  dark  fate,  thy  reign 

o'erthrown 
By  mocking  earth  devote  to  vanity. 
Yet  in  those  realms  above  earth-hate  and 

ruth, 
Those  happy  hunting-grounds — the 

Spirit's  throne — 

95 


Their  souls  are  wand 'ring  in  eternal 
youth. 


And  I, — the  last,  the  lonely, — at  thy  call, 
O  Great,  Good  Spirit,  by  whose  sovereign 

pow'r 
My  race  arose  in  majesty  to  fall 
Before  these  hordes  that  scorn  their  wild 

despair, 
Shall  leave  this  bright  domain — my 

mighty  dow'r — 
Unsung,  unmourned  by  loveless  hearts 

and  cold. 
O  Great  Earth-Spirit,  hear  my  last  fare- 
well! 
Ye  Solemn  streams,  ye  hills  and  fallows 

fair, 
Ye  gorges  wild,  ye  noble  forests  old, 
Farewell,  farewell, — I  ne'er  shall  see  thee 

more! 


96 


THE  WOOD-THRUSH. 

Thou  tremulous  voice  of  sacred  solitude — 

Thou  soul  of  Nature's  life, 
How  thrills  thy  rapturous  song  the 
list'ning  wood 
And  charms  to  wonder  all  my  selfish 
grief  I 
No  sound  on  earth  as  rich  and  pure  as 
thine, 
As  free  from  pain  and  strife; 
Some  passion  rare,  some  lofty  theme 

divine 
Inspires  thy  tranquil  sold  with  solemn 
mood. 

Oh,  I  could  wish  that  angels'  songs  might 
be 
Ethereal  as  thine, 
For  in  the  secret  of  thy  ecstasy 
Throbs  all  the  beauty  of  some  God-like 
pain — 
Some  myst'ry  deep  to  blinded  mortals  dim, 

But  full  of  Heav'n's  design, 
In  haunted  woods  enchanted  by  thy  hymn, 
So  wonderful,  so  near  divinity. 

97 


The  dewy  dawn  in  mystic  bow'rs  of  green 

Scarce  stirs  the  waiting  air, 
When  o'er  the  pulse  of  morn  thy  tones 
serene 
Gush  trembling  like  some  heart's 
emotion  rare. 
The  tender  Silence  throbs  through  all  its 
soul 
Thy  rhapsody  to  hear, 
And  Echo  wakes  her  richest  chords  to  call 
The  woodland  sprites  to  worship  with  thy 
strain. 

When  Zephyr  breathes  his  cool,  caressing 
spells 
O'er  bow'rs  of  paling  light, 
And  charming  Glamour  day's  commotion 
stills 
With  fancies  soft  and  whispers  of  the 
night, 
From  secret  depths  of  some  melodious 
wood 
Thy  vibrant  music's  flight, 
In  strains  of  magic  minor  soft-subdued, 
The  phantomed  gloom  with  quiv'ring 
transport  thrills. 


Oh,  fresh  and  tender  as  the  morn  of  May 

Enravished  with  thy  song ; 
Profound  and  mystic  as  the  twilight  gray 
That  lingers  where  thy  thrilling 
raptures  throng ; 
Tranquil  as  the  trembling  flow'rs  aswoon 

In  silent  sorcery  hung! — 
All  nature  hushes  when  thy  liquid  tune 
Pours  mellow  floods  of  worship  to  the  day. 


Seraphic  minstrel,  messenger  benign, 

In  secret  realms  apart, 
An  echo  of  some  primal  hymn  divine, 
A  rare  and  haunting  wraith  of  Nature's 
heart, — 
My  spirit  quiv'ring  on  the  vibrant  flow 

Of  thy  celestial  art, 
Yearns  with  thee  through  life's  forest 

gloom  and  glow 
To  worlds  where  skies  of  fadeless  beauty 
shine. 


90 


SERENADE. 

Arise  to  her  heart,  sweet  song, 
Tender  as  night's  holy  passion: 
Tremble  and  hover  like  cherubs  above  her, 
Whisper  all  gently,  "I  love  her,  I  love 
her"— 
In  accents  the  angels  might  fashion. 
Oh,  breathe  to  my  fair 
My  yearning  despair — 
Arise  to  her  heart,  sweet  song. 


Enfold  all  her  sense,  sweet  dream, 
Soft  on  the  night-air  a-thronging; 
Quiver  and  linger,  pale  forms,  while  I  sing 

her 
Ardent  desires  of  the  worship  I  bring 
her — 
Pure  visions  of  infinite  longing. 
Oh,  throng  her  charmed  sleep 
With  thoughts  pure  and  deep — 
Enfold  all  her  sense,  sweet  dream. 


100 


Imbue  all  her  soul,  sweet  love, 
Charming  with  blissful  emotion; 
Sweeter  and  stiller  than  visions  that  thrill 

her, 
Deep  with  thy  ravishing  witchery  fill 
her — 
Fair  Goddess  of  mystic  devotion. 
Entice  and  inspire 
With  love's  magic  fire — 
Imbue  all  her  soul,  sweet  love. 


101 


THE  HERMIT.— Sonnet. 

In  olden  times  now  dim  with  glamour's 
charm, 
The  hermit,  hidden  in  his  lonely  cell, 
Renounced  the  world  and  all  its  sin  and 
harm 
And  lost  his  soul  in  Nature's  healing 
spell. 
There,  free  from  grief  and  hate  and 
strife's  alarm, 
The  holy  peace  and  contemplative  zeal 
His  being  to  a  blessed  state  transform, 
And  passion's  blight  in  solitude  doth 
heal. 
Thus  might  I  dwell  in  Nature's  own 
caress, 
Par  from  the  crime  and  wrong  of 
modern  life, 
No  more  to  silent  mourn  the  poor's 
distress, 
Nor  curse  the  greed  of  wealth  and  sordid 
strife ; 
Like  tempted  Christ,  with  Spirit-pow'r 

renewed, 
Should  I  return  to  point  the  world  to  good. 

102 


WINTER  BALLAD. 

There  is  snow  on  the  hills, 

There  is  ice  on  the  rills, 

And  the  pine  trees  with  frost-fringe  are 

hoary: 
There  is  light  in  the  sky 
And  the  flood-glows  on  high 
Strew  the  scene  with  a  glistening  glory. 


There's  a  gleam  on  the  rocks 
Where  the  stream  laves  its  locks 
With  dashes  and  spray-glints  of  bright- 
ness: 
There's  a  mantle  soft-blown 
O'er  the  fields  and  the  town 
That  turns  all  the  gloom-shades  to  white- 
ness: 

All  my  soul  feels  the  balm 

Of  the  white,  moveless  calm 

As  I  gaze  mute  in  wonder  appealing; 

With  the  glories  serene 

Brooding  far  o'er  the  scene 

To  my  heart  a  deep  import  revealing. 

108 


THE  POET'S  WOOING. 

Come,  dearest,  with  me. 
There's  a  bright  realm  divine — 
A  heav'n  of  love  where  thy  lone  soul  and 
mine, 
O'er  the  glad  summer-sea 
Of  our  dream-rhapsody 
Are  wafted  in  wavering  joys,  or  recline 
On  delight's  throbbing  breast 
In  a  wild,  joyous  rest. 


Come,  fairest,  with  me. 
Far  away  we  will  fly 
From  earth's  baneful  glooms  to  yon 
glorious  sky, 
Where  the  radiance  rare 
Of  a  spirit-light  fair 
In  a  rapturous  flood  pours  a  lustre  on 
high; 
And  its  throbbing  delight 
Thrills  our  hearts  with  love's  might. 


104 


Come,  sweetest,  with  me. 
Let  us  haste  soft  away : 
Our  pinions  of  joy  earthly  fetters  delay. 
There  in  love  pure  and  free 
We  shall  roam  joyously. 
Softly  glowing  in  endless  delight  blushful 
May 
Weaves  of  Beauty's  sweet  flow'rs 
Our  entrancing  love-bow 'rs. 


Come,  darling,  with  me. 
To  our  far  world  benign 
All  Loveliness,  Beauty  and  Music  Divine 
Softly  call  us.    We'll  flee 
Wafted  e'er  on  Love's  sea 
To  yon  kingless  sphere  where  our  lone 
hearts  entwine 
In  delight  wild,  supreme 
Of  our  love's  fadeless  dream. 


105 


AMBITION.— Sonnet. 
The  drowsy  muses  wake  not  with  morn's 
beams 
Sullen  with  sated  Slimmer  's  languid  sigh ; 
The  dawning 's  splendor  and  noon's 
dazzling  sky- 
Have  passed,  like  joy,  into  the  poet's 

dreams, 
And  Time  with  leaden  shackles,  gray- 
gloomed,  seems 
To  chain  the  winged  soul  to  pine  and  die 
'Mid  drooping  dreams  of  lost,  wild 
majesty 
Where,  glory-tinged,  its  sky-kissed  man- 
sion gleams. 
Yet  shalt  thou  pine,  O  heart,  in  sorrow 
dire?— 
As  yon  hued  star  dispels  the  wreath- 
ing blight, 
The  glowing  ardor  of  inspired  desire 
Shall  flame  the  glooms  thy  soul's  pure 
star  benight ; 
Shall  rend  its  shrouds  and  fuse  in  fining 
fire 
The  pall  that  surges  round  thy  spirit's 
flight. 

106 


THE  THRONE. 

Once  thro'  love's  noontide  I  was  dreaming 

When  the  glowing  spheres  of  gold, 
Their  mellow  flush  in  splendor  gleaming, 
Steeped  in  rainbowed  floods  that  fold 
Their  troopings  warm  as  summer 

dreams 
About  my  tranced  heart  that  seems 
'Neath  Heaven's  stainless  glory  lulled 
To  passionate  repose,  where  rolled 
The  mystic  flows  of  sky-hued  streams. 


Far  thro'  the  throngs  of  splendors  teeming 

O'er  the  marge  of  flooding  day, 
My  wafted  soul  aswoon  or  dreaming 
Heard  some  wondrous  spirit-lay 
That  quivered  thro'  the  irised  light 
Its  thrills  of  strange  soul-startling 
might, 
As  joys  some  forlorn  heart  astray 
Plush  o'er  when  dawning 's  pallor  gray 
Breaks  thro'  the  pall  of  paling  night. 

107 


The  orbed  worlds  of  glory  streaming 
Merged  their  floods  of  fused  glows, 
And  voicef ul  strains  of  radiance  hymning 
Pulsed  their  harmonies  that  rose 

With  tremblings  thro '  the  tranced  air, 
And  flushing,  thrilled  its  slumbers 
fair; 
As  when  some  tide  of  bliss  o'erflows 
The  deeps  of  peaceless  life's  repose 
And  frights  the  triumph  of  despair. 


Amid  the  dulcet  strains,  soft  theming 

Raptured  tremors  of  delight, 
My  soul,  itself  in  Heaven  deeming 
Started  at  the  mystic  sight ; 
For  seraph-souls  whose  pinions  shone 
With  liquid  gold,  a  beauteous  throne 
Did  rear ;  while  sphered  glowings 

bright, 
Flushed  mellow  with  some  tender  might, 
Soft  floods  of  rhapsodies  intone. 


Each  spirit,  some  earth-soul  beseeming, 
Erst  uncrowned  'mid  earthly  scorn, 

108 


Effulgent  in  sky-raptures  gleaming, 
Glory's  radiant  throne  adorn. 
The  vassals  of  earth-pow'r  and  fame, 
Of  pompous  wealth  or  honored  name, 
With  that  rapt  throng  on  Heaven's 

bourn 
Could  mingle  not,  whose  souls  did  yearn 
With  lust  and  greed  in  rankling  flame. 


But  o'er  those  blissful  forms  e'er  stream- 
ing 
Mystic  phantom-beings  gush, 
Like  happy,  fleeting  visions  teeming 
In  dream-magic's  tender  blush; 
Transformed  from  earthly  deed  or 

dream, 
Their  empyreal  glory-gleam 
Wreathed  round  those  seraph-bands  its 

hush; 
While  guardian  spirit-raptures  flush 
That  lustre-fashioned  throne 
supreme. 


100 


And  some  there  were  'mid  that  throng 
seeming 
Lives  I  knew  in  earthly  days, 
Tho'  lowly  born,  yet  paltry  deeming 
Wealth  and  pow'r,  desire  and  praise; 
And  many  poor  and  meek  unknown, 
Whose  souls  e'er  heard  the  creature's 
groan, 
And  yearnings  vain  to  Heaven  raise 
For  human  wrongs  and  griefs  that  maze 
The  sin-darked  earth  in  wail  and 
moan. 

With  tear-gems  dark  now  lustrous  beam- 
ing, 
Brighter  than  the  sun-flamed  dew; 
With  sighs  of  pain  enraptured  hymning 
Strains  that  earth-forms  would  endue 
With  dreams  divine ;  with  looks  of 

pain 
The  soul  in  anguish  uttered  vain, 
That  glories  tint  with  fairest  hue; 
With  pure  love-dreams  and  longings 
true, 
Those  builders  reared  Love's  holy 

reign, 

no 


And  when  the  King,  His  sky-throne 
gleaming, 
Shrined  in  stainless  radiance  white, 
Ascended  in  hued  splendors  streaming 
Flaming  wide  o'er  earth's  tinged  night, 
I  joined  that  seraph  glory-train 
Whose  raptures  thrilled  the  triumph- 
strain 
'Mid  worlds  attune  with  ravished 

might: 
"  Great  King  of  Glory,  Pow'r  and 

Light, 
Great  God,  thou  Love  Eternal, 
reign." 


111 


THE  SNOWFLAKE. 

Oh,  delicate  creature 
Of  marvelous  feature, 
What  mist-molding  spirits 

Have  had  thee  in  thrall ! 
What  wild  pain  and  gladness, 
What  ravishing  sadness, 
What  beautiful  madness 

Are  told  in  thy  fall ! 


Oh,  filmy  and  dainty, 
Thy  form  carved  so  quaintly, 
Thy  mystic  design  from 
The  stars  took  its  form. 
The  frost's  biting  kisses, 
The  wind's  giddy  blisses, 
The  storm's  rude  caresses 

Have  lent  thee  thy  charm. 


112 


From  clouds  dark  and  whirling, 
In  tempest  wild  swirling, 
Like  beauty  from  darkness, 

Like  Spring's  radiant  birth, 
A  scintillant  flurry, 
A  crystal- white  glory, 
A  mist- jewel  hoary, 

Thou  floatest  to  earth. 

Oh,  miracle  dazing, 
With  marvel  amazing, 
No  flow'r  in  the  forest, 

No  gem  in  the  mine, 
In  infinite  wonder, 
So  fleeting  and  tender, 
So  subtle  in  splendor, 

Is  half  so  divine. 

What  forces  have  wrought  thee, 
What  power  hath  brought  thee, 
Thou  dazzling  spear-cluster, 
Thou  flow'r-bride  of  air, 
So  silently  flying, 
So  multiform  lying, 
So  fugitive,  dying, 
In  starry  despair  I 

113 


Could  knowledge  discover 
These  forces  that  hover 
In  common  existence 

Of  snowflake  or  flow'r, 
Could  science  expound  us 
This  spirit  around  us, 
These  laws  that  surround  us, 

Their  purpose  and  pow'r! 


But  vain  is  our  scheming, 
And  empty  our  dreaming; 
Our  strong  reason  faints 
At  celestial  design. 
Oh,  beauty  external, 
Oh,  vision  supernal, 
Reveal  the  eternal, 

And  make  us  divine ! 


114 


AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

So  low  and  still  among  the  grass 
You  lie  in  moveless  death, 

Scarce  stirring  when  the  breezes  pass 
With  chill  and  hoary  breath : 

What  cruel  fate  has  laid  you  low, 

All  prostrate  in  your  gorgeous  woe  I 


When  Spring  flushed  all  the  wintry  wold 

With  breath  of  scented  air, 
And  spread  her  shining  garments'  gold 

O'er  earth-glooms  dulled  and  bare, 
You  woke  to  life,  so  pure  and  fresh, 
A-quiver  with  the  dawning 's  blush. 


Oh,  could  this  vital,  ardent  spring, 
When  thrilling  sap  gushed  forth 

Through  all  your  tingling  veins  to  sing 
The  wonder  of  your  birth, 

Still  cherish  you  so  sweet  and  rare, 

So  young  and  green  and  ever  fair ! 

115 


What  joy  was  yours,  what  daylight  cheer, 

And  stir  of  balmy  night! 
What  happy  songsters  caroled  clear 

Their  gushings  to  the  light ! 
What  zephyrs  hush  with  lang'rous  kiss 
Would  wanton  o'er  your  trembling  bliss! 


In  radiant,  voluptuous  June, 

What  lovers  aimless  led, 
In  luscious  phrases  soft  commune 

Beneath  your  envious  shade ! 
What  teeming,  soaring,  humming  life 
You  saw  through  lavish  summer  rife! 


I  too,  perhaps,  when  wand 'ring  lone 
Through  solemn  forest  way, 

Would  listen  to  your  rustling  tone 
Melodious  breezes  play. 

And  here,  at  last,  with  life  outworn, 

Your  fallen  grace  I  lowly  mourn. 


116 


Yet,  doomed  to  such  a  splendid  death 
Deep-hued  in  lustrous  pain, 

Sad  Autumn  tints  with  magic  breath 
Your  pall  of  crimson  wane. 

Majestic  in  your  fall  sublime, 

I  love  you  more  than  in  your  prime. 


O  tender  life,  there  was  a  day 
When  youth  was  ever  mine ; 

When  throbbing  gush  of  generous  May 
Breathed  out  its  soul  divine : 

But  summer  came — the  golden  joy 

And  fullness  of  the  noon's  alloy. 


And  now  life's  Autumn  slowly  comes 

With  miste  upon  the  hill, 
With  blighting  frosts  and  wintry  dooms 

That  summer  music  still. 
Oh,  will  the  joy  and  love  and  strife 
With  mellow  glory  tinge  my  life  ? 


117 


Ah,  could  we  mould  our  sordid  fate 
To  Nature's  sinless  reign, 

Our  living  were  a  happy  state 
And  death  a  radiant  wane. 

0  autumn  leaves,  our  low  desire 

With  thy  rich  lore  of  life  inspire ! 


118 


THE  MEADOW  LARK. 

Gray-robed  dawn  with  fingers  airy 
Scarce  has  touched  the  misty  hill, 

Nor  the  sun  with  faint  smiles  cheery 
Burst  the  shroud  of  wintry  chill, 

Till  I  hear  thy  carol  high 

Whistling  to  the  March-gloomed  sky, 
Softly  waking,  sweetly  breaking 
Sleep  of  bud  and  frost  of  rill. 


Through  the  cheerless  shroud  of  morning, 
From  the  dewy  meadow  still, 

Sounds  thy  flute-like  note  of  yearning 
For  the  summer's  generous  thrill. 

In  your  wayy,  rolling  song, 

Like  the  hills  you  skim  along, 

Naught  of  sorrow  for  the  morrow 
Mars  the  joy  with  taint  of  ill. 


119 


All  the  warmth  of  balmy  May-time, 
All  the  bliss  of  flow'rs  and  nest, 

Loves  through  all  the  summer  daytime 
Swell  thy  throat  and  thrill  thy  breast. 

No  regret  for  autumn  grief, 

Summers  gone,  or  fallen  leaf: 

All  thy  singing,  flowing,  ringing, 
Hymns  the  future's  glad  behest. 


Tell  me  all  that  nature  taught  thee, 

In  thy  tonef ul  whistling  bright ; 
Man's  vain  care  and  strife  have  brought 
me 
Naught  but  bitterness  and  blight. 
All  his  empty  knowledge  fails, 
All  his  vaunted  greatness  pales 

At  thy  singing,  blithely  winging, 
Happy  in  the  gloom  or  light. 


120 


Still  pour  out  o'er  field  and  fallow 
Silvery  peals  of  guileless  art, 

Till  our  sodden  senses  hallow 
Ail  thy  meaning  in  our  heart. 

Flood  the  world  with  song  benign 

Till  our  thoughts  are  pure  as  thine : 
Nature's  blessing,  sweet  expressing, 
To  our  sordid  souls  impart. 


121 


ON  EASTER  MORN. 

When  the  radiant  streams  of  golden 
splendor 
Melted  in  flames  o'er  the  dawning 's 
gray, 
And  the  sun-floods  first  lustres  flooding 
tender 
Glistened  from  dew-gems  afire  with 
day; 

And  the  star-spheres,  their  pallid  glint- 
ings,  beaming 
Sky-realms  with  silver  their  gold  adorn,- 
AU  the  tranced  delights  of  God's  worlds 
gleaming 
Fuse  in  the  glory  of  Easter  Morn. 

In  the  sun-floods  o'er  sea  and  city 
streaming 
Thrilling  the  warm-flushing  morn  with 
cheer, 
Thro'  the  shimmering  streets  whose  man- 
sions, gleaming, 
Mirrored  the  sun-flames  in  dazzlings 
clear, 

122 


In  apparel  all  gorgeous,  throngs  were 
werding, 

Garish  and  flashing  their  proud  display, 
In  luxuriant  pageants  costly  blending 

Sumptuous  vanities'  pomp  with  day. 


In  a  flourish  to  church  they  flutter 
proudly, 
Flaunting  their  elegance  hued  in  morn. 
To  exalt  with  their  mocking  praises 
loudly 
Jesus,  the  King  of  the  World,  they 
scorn. 


When  they  reach  the  great  structure, 
august,  mighty, 
Reared  with  their  fabulous  wealth's 
excess, — 
By  the  stately  bronze  doors  in  day  flashed 
lightly, 
Wrought  in  elaborate  gracefulness 


123 


With  inspirited  scenes  from  Jesus' 
wand 'rings, 
Lost  in  the  darkness  of  life's  grief -maze, 
Whom  the  minions  of  Self  in  their  meagre 
pond 'rings 
Serve  as  their  church-god  with  deedless 
praise, — 


On  the  steps  was  a  formless  mass  seen 
crouching, 
Mingling  its  gloom  with  the  golden 
glow; 
And  the  faces  of  mother  and  babe  seemed 
watching 
Pageants  of  splendor  that  mocked  their 
woe. 


'Mid  the  sneers  and  rebukes  of  Christians 
godless, 
Moveless  the  culprits  their  scorn  defied: 
For  grim  Death  glared  from  eye-balls 
ghastly,  bloodless, 
Gloating  his  lusts  o'er  their  lives 
mocked  with  pride. 

124 


What  holloa  farce  of  praise,  O  God, 
To  taint  thy  love  with  pride  and  state, 

While  Demon- Woes,  at  Wealth's  chill  nod, 
Their  orgies  hold  with  Death  and  Fate ! 


Dread  Death !    Thou  are  the  Sprite  of 
Hell 
To  hearts  spoil-gorged  from  human 
strife : 
How  hideous,  thou  life's  horror  fell 
To  lust  of  eyes  and  pride  of  life ! 


But,  ah,  to  grief -crushed  souls  thou  art 
God's  Angel  dear  of  Peace  and  Love, 

So  tender  to  the  woe-worn  heart 
Thou  leadest  to  thy  King  above. 


Oft  have  I  felt  thy  gentle  arms 
Around  me,  looked  into  thine  eyes, 

And,  hid  from  mocking  life's  alarms, 
I  rested  borne  toward  paradise. 


125 


And  thou  didst  love  me,  for  thy  face 
Was  wreathed  in  tender  looks  of  woe; 

And  o'er  my  anguished  heart  thy  grace 
Flushed  first  the  thrill  of  Heaven's 
glow: 


And,  folded  to  thy  panting  breast, 
I  wooed  thy  smiles  with  fond  implore, 

And  borne  aswoon  to  realms  of  rest, 
The  Mystery  of  Life  seemed  o'er. 


Thou  Seraph  of  our  destined  years, 
How  gently  dost  thou  lead  us  on 

Prom  woes  to  throned  kingless  spheres 
Enwreathed  in  lights  of  Heaven's 
Dawn, 


Whose  splendors  stream  from  flooding 
Morn 

That  burst  thy  prison-pall  of  night; 
And  Heaven's  deathless  glories  throne 

Our  King  enshrined  in  Love  and  Light ! 


126 


THE  HAIL. 

While  man  on  his  earth,  in  plenty  or 
dearth 
Is  struggling  all  stolid  and  blind, 
Lo,  here  in  the  sky  I  am  forming  on  high 
In  cloud-storms  and  wind-wrath  en- 
twined. 


The  daemons  of  storm  all  the  sky-robes 
transform, 
And  the  globules  of  fog  and  of  cloud 
All  gather  and  swarm  'neath  the  wind's 
chilly  charm, 
Till  the  rain-drops  descend  from  the 
shroud. 


All  downward  they  plunge  till  in  their 
wild  lunge 
They  reach  the  weird  region  of  frost, 
Where  cold's  mystic  Sprite,  with  wand  of 
strange  might 
Congeals  all  their  hurrying  host. 

127 


And  thus  I  am  made,  in  a  dazzle  arrayed, 
And  I  crash  through  the  thick  rolling 
mist; 
But  the  wild  winds  amain  rushing  upward 
again, 
With  a  force  that  no  earth-bonds  re- 
sist, 


Hurl  me  swiftly  on  high  through  the 
storm-darkened  sky, 

And  the  vaporous  atoms  of  air 
I  grasp  and  I  hold  till  the  rigorous  cold 

Freezes  all  in  my  arms  cold  and  bare. 


Through  the  vortex  I  whirl,  seething  out 
of  the  swirl, 
Till  I  pour  o'er  the  storm's  raging 
bound; 
And  the  winds  rushing  by  let  me  drop 
from  on  high, 
And  I  plunge  and  I  pitch  to  the 
ground. 


128 


Through  the  tree-tops  I  crash,  on  the 
house-roof  I  clash, 
And  I  startle  with  rattle  and  roar 
All  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  with  my  bois- 
terous mirth, 
When  my  frantic,  mad  journey  is 


o'er. 


From  my  wild  life  on  high  here  I  silently 
lie, 
By  a  wonder  of  wind- wrath  designed ; 
While  man  on  his  earth,  in  plenty  or 
dearth, 
Was  struggling  all  stolid  and  blind. 


129 


ASPIRATION.— Sonnet. 

Incessant  Spirit  like  a  tireless  goad, 

Compelling  effort  to  unwonted  trials, 
Why  dost  thou  urge  me  onward  o'er  the 
road 
Of  weary  struggle  through  life's  mazy 
wiles? 
With  failures  scorned  and  pleasures  all 
subdued, 
I  strive  and  strain  to  reach  those  higher 
goals 
Where  labor  shall  achieve  some  human 
good — 
Some  influence  sweet,  or  love  in  humble 
souls. 
So,  shall  thy  force  relentless  keep  her  sway ; 
E'en  though  I  lose  the  common  joys  of 
life, 
My  heart  shall  triumph  in  some  golden 
day, 
With  lives  made  better  through  my  pain 
and  strife. 
Thou  gracious  tyrant,  wield  thy 

chast'ning  goad 
And  drive  me  upward  o'er  thy  skyey 
road. 

130 


THE  COMET. 

Mysterious  wanderer  through  bournless 
space, 
Creation  sourceless  in  thy  wondered 
flight, 
Prodigious  giant  of  the  planet  race, 
My  thoughts  of  thee  are  vast  as  thine 
own  night. 
What  mystic  pow'r  impels  thy  trackless 

way 
Through  sun's  and  systems'  infinite 
array? 


On  boundless  path  with  speed's  amazing 
might 
Thou  soarest  past  the  circling  planet- 
spheres  ; 
Thy  fiery  train  of  fuming,  seething  light, 
A  monster  huge,  the  depthless  heaven 
blears 
With  gassy  dust  repellent  to  the  sun 
That  draws  thee  round  her  on  thy  sweep- 
ing run. 

131 


Thy  mass  stupendous  swings  beyond  the 
bound 
Of  Neptune's  farthest  orbit  black  and 
cold, 
To  where  some  undreamed  spheres' 
eternal  round 
Compels  thy  viewless  flight  to  realms 
untold; 
While  through  thy  million  miles  of  reek- 
ing form, 
By  nameless  essence  fired,  thy  atoms 
swarm. 


A  thousand  years  on  one  relentless  course, 

Above  the  circuit  of  the  rolling  worlds, 

Thou  plungest  on  impelled  by  furious 

force 

That  all  thy  fuming  bulk  forever  hurls 

Through  wheeling  orbs  that  float  in  grand 

array 
In  widening  arcs  to  bourns  of  sunless  day. 


132 


Prom  distant  realms  thou  glarest  on  the 
swarm 
Of  whirling  spheres.    Thou  sweepest 
past  the  earth 
In  borrowed  splendor  pale ;  the  glowing 
form 
Of  radiant  Venus,  and  the  ruddy  girth 
Of  ancient  Mars ;  while  farther  'neath  thy 

plane 
Flames  giant  Jupiter  with  star-like  train, 


And  fires  with  bursting  rage  the  reeking 
pall 
Of  struggling  fumes  that  seethe  in 
frenzied  ire. 
Majestic  Saturn  sinks  his  rolling  ball 
In  surging  seas  of  glowing,  vaporous 
fire, 
Where  circling  moons  from  banded  clouds 

arise 
And  strew  their  glory  o'er  the  mirrored 
skies. 


133 


Oh,  could  we  journey  with  thee  'round  the 
spheres 
Of  solar  marvels  scattered  through  the 
sky 
Ineffable,  that  vast  creation  rears, 

Wonders  on  wonders,  till  our  spirit's  eye 
Beheld  the  Might  that  made  them  roll  and 

shine — 
Our  feeble  souls  would  rise  to  heights 
divine! 


Behind  eternal  worlds  we  should  behold 
One  law,  immutable,  inflexible, 

That  rules  the  universe  with  reign  as  old 
As  prime  Conception's  plan  inexorable : 

One  Force  supreme — the  Lord  of  space 
and  time, 

The  Sway  of  systems  and  of  suns  sublime. 


134 


Debase  Him  not  to  share  your  vulgar 
states, 
In  groveling  greed  and  sin  of  life 
profane ; 
The  God  that  universal  Law  creates 

Is  far  above  your  trifling  baubles  vain. 
Degrade  Him  not  to  all  your  paltry  cares, 
Nor  make  him  servile  to  your  vile  affairs. 


He  gives  all  law  for  worlds  as  well  as  man, 
Revealed  in  every  pulse  of  Nature's  life. 
Conform  your  minds  accordant  to  His 
plan; 
Look  up,  behold,  and  leave  your  sordid 
strife! 
Consider  all  these  wondrous  works  on 

high, 
And  teach  your  souls  to  worship  with  the 
sky. 


186 


The  creant  laws  that  made  the  heavens 
swarm 
With  countless,  deathless  majesties  of 
light, 
Hold  universal  fates  that  ever  form 

All  being's  course  in  functions  infinite : 
To  feel  this  harmony  of  Primal  Plan 
Alone  is  great,  amid  the  shame  of  man. 


188 


SUFFERING.— Sonnet. 

For  whom  the  Lord  doth  love  He  chasten- 
eth, 
And  scourgeth  every  one  He  doth 
receive. 
So  e'en  the  depths  of  grief  or  pangs  of 
death 
An  exultation  and  a  triumph  give, 
Higher  and  greater  than  despised  pain 
And  scorned  suff 'ring  of  a  little  day. 
Therefore,  ye  fates,  with  all  your  tortures 
vain, 
Torment  my  life,  but  give  my  soul  her 
sway: 
With  loss  and  toil  and  care  my  heart 
oppress, 
And  crush  me  down  in  dark  humility, 
With  scourging  woes  and  chast'ning 
wretchedness. 
Yet  shall  my  soul  arise  in  majesty, 
Glowing  with  glory  of  this  charmed 
distress, 
To  reachless  heights  of  Heaven's 
ecstasy. 

137 


WANDERING. 

'Twas  eventide,  and  twilight  gloomings 

Pale  as  phantoms  of  delight, 
Crept  still  o'er  mellow  day's  illumings 

Vermeil-hued  and  bright, 
Whose  floods  with  shades  of  evening  blend 

To  gold  from  noontide's  splendor  white. 
The  drooping  leaves  sweet  blushing  bend, 
Toward  where  day's  glories  soft  descend, 

To  kiss  the  sun  good-night. 


And  where  the  purling  streamlet  glinted 

Softer  in  its  murmuring  gush, 
And  whisp 'ring  ripples  golden  tinted 

Glowed  with  day's  wan  blush, — 
We  lingered  by  the  verdant  wold 

Sad-drooping  twilight  blooms  o'erflush, 
Where  zephyr's  fallen  pinions  fold 
And  solitude  day's  death  condoled 

In  solemn,  omened  hush. 


138 


My  soul  so  weary  with  its  striving 

Sank  in  rest  beside  the  stream, 
Where  Vesper,  from  her  trance  reviving 

Threw  her  silver  gleam 
Fast  bright 'ning  in  day's  crimson  wane ; 

And  when  the  thrush  forgot  his  theme 
And  fluttered  to  yon  leafy  fane, 
My  fair  love  breathed  a  magic  strain 

Beguiling  me  to  dream. 


'Twas  sweeter  than  a  siren's  chanting, 

Wafting  doomed  souls  to  bliss ; 
More  tender  than  the  zephyr  panting 

Fevered  brows  to  kiss ; 
Oh,  gladder  than  the  songs  of  Spring 

That  thrill  the  world  with  joyousness, 
And  dear  as  strains  the  angels  sing, — 
A  song  of  love,  enrapturing 

With  passion's  holiness. 


189 


My  thrilled  soul  was  soothed  to  dreaming 

Dreams  too  deep  for  human  sight, 
'Mid  raptured  forms  from  Heaven  seem- 
ing, 

Borne  on  pinions  light 
Of  mortal  love  that  breathed  in  song 

Supernal  with  its  passion's  might. 
My  soul  seemed  with  some  angel-throng 
The  radiant,  fleeting  stars  among 

To  take  its  flight. 


But  when  the  night,  her  black  robes  shed- 
ding 

O'er  the  meadow,  stream  and  hill, 
Conjured  her  spell,  a  strange  pow'r 
spreading 

O'er  my  slumbers  still, 
A  phantom  weird  of  sorrow  passed 

Among  my  dreams  with  love  athrill 
That,  paled  with  terror,  vanished  fast; 
And  I  awoke  alone,  aghast, 

Forlorn  in  night's  black  chill. 


140 


Alone!    No  visioned  love  forms  thrilling 

Quivered  o'er  my  straining  sight: 
Alone !    No  whispered  love-tones  stilling 

Care  in  joy's  delight! 
No  light  from  Heaven's  dark  domain 

Shone  o'er  my  anguished  soul,  a  blight, 
Heavy  and  thick  with  crushing  pain, 
Consumed  my  love-lorn  heart  aswoon 

In  sorrow's  voiceless  night. 


Oh,  where  had  fled  those  dreams  supernal, 

Vanished  in  love's  eventide, — 
That  transient  passion  vowed  eternal 

I  had  deified? 
Ah,  could  it  stray  and  leave  my  heart 

To  roam  life's  desert  wild  and  wide, — 
To  wander  aimless  and  apart, 
A  guideless  love  some  Fury's  dart 

Has  ruthless  struck  aside? 


141 


Ah,  for  that  joy  I  lost  at  even, 

Where  the  surging  shadows  rise 
I  sought  thro'  wreathed  earth  and  Heaven, 

Death  and  Paradise. 
Thro'  weird  and  starless  realms  above 

Where  lifeless  airs  dull-mocked  my 
sighs, 
And  where  the  struggling  night-shrouds 

strove 
All  wild  and  wan  I  sought  my  love 

Among  the  blackened  skies ; 


On  where  the  frighted  cloud-ships  floated, 

Drooping  wan  their  furling  sails 
Once  white,  but  where  the  death-pall 
gloated, 

Stained  with  midnight's  bales. 
One  fleeting  instant  shone  a  glow, — 

A  flush  of  passing  joy  that  pales ; 
One  soothing  love-tone  sweet  and  low 
Breathed  tranced  o'er  my  startled  woe 

That  plunged  to  earth's  deep  vales. 


142 


And  when  I  roused  to  living  sorrow, 

Thro'  the  forest  dense  and  wild 
I  wandered  striving  toward  the  morrow 

Where  my  lost  joy  smiled. 
On  thro'  the  tangled  wild  wood- waste 

O'er  cliffs  and  chasmy  vales  beguiled 
In  wild  desire  and  frenzied  haste, 
As  by  some  demon-anguish  chased 

With  nameless  fury  thrilled, 


I  struggled  on.    Thro'  bleak  and  trackless 

Regions  of  eternal  care, 
Where  veiled  the  midnight's  phantomed 
blackness 

Haunts  of  mad  despair, 
Concealing  in  her  sightless  glooms 

The  sprites  of  Hell  that  frenzied  bear 
The  woe- worn  souls  to  searchless  dooms, 
Where  thoughts'  and  dreams'  and  mem'- 
ries'  tombs 

Yawned  black,  but  passing  fair ; 


And  where  adown  that  gorge  abysmal, 

Waste  with  wrecks  of  joy  I  crave, 
'Mid  ragged  gulfs  and  whirlpools  dismal 

Faith  and  terror  rave, — 
My  tortured  soul  with  yearnings  torn, 

In  fevered  haste  to  find  the  grave 
Of  vanished  love,  still  struggled  lorn; 
I  sank,  in  fainting  anguish  borne, 

In  madness'  seething  wave. 


Long  thro'  the  soundless  midnight's 
surges 

Phantom-throngs  of  ghastly  care 
Fast-trooping  gasped  their  hollow  dirges 

O'er  my  dumb  despair. 
Long  thro'  the  lifeless  soul's  weird  trance 

I  felt  the  blackened  ages  fare 
Dead  o'er  life's  ruined,  dark  expanse 
Once  bright  and  fair,  where  beasts  of 
Chance 

Their  orgies  vast  prepare. 


144 


But  calm  as  flushes  glowing  Vesper 

O'er  the  even's  flood  of  gray, 
There  throbbed  thro'  night  a  thrilled 
whisper 

Soft  as  blush  of  day ; 
And  o'er  my  soul  a  presence  dear, 

Entrancing  like  a  seraph's  lay 
From  realms  of  bliss  that  hovered  near, 
And  sweeter  than  some  vision  fair 

From  Heaven's  dreams  astray, 


O'erflushed  at  life's  sublime  awaking. 

Soft  a  thrilling  hand  clasped  mine; 
And  night's  abysmal  glooms  forsaking, 

Where  veiled  splendors  shine — 
The  irised  blush  of  some  new  morn — 

Led  ever  by  that  hand  divine, 
Far  from  that  dread  abyss  upborne 
On  wings  that  lowly  earth-glooms  scorn 

I  sought  yon  glory's  shrine. 


145 


And  there  I  roused  from  life's  weird 
dreamings 

On  those  heights  at  Heaven's  bourn; 
And  gazed  o'er  all  earth's  hollow  seemings 

Dark  and  love-forlorn. 
I  saw  my  petty  passion  wane 

And  plunge  in  gloom  its  fire  outworn ; 
And  love  all  seared  with  burning  pain 
Consumed  its  own  desiise  with  bane 

Of  bitterness  and  scorn. 


My  empty  soul  with  hunger  yearning. 

Turned  to  life  as  broad  and  great 
As  mighty  sweeps  of  God's  discerning 

O'er  all  human  fate. 
And  all  the  joys  and  woes  of  men 

Poured  o'er  my  heart  to  consecrate 
My  selfish  passion's  paltry  pain 
To  UNIVERSAL  LOVE  again 

For  every  living  state. 


146 


THE  POET'S  DEATH. 

The  trooping,  dreamless  hours  of  night 
Their  sombre  robes  in  silence  fold, 
Where  feeble  dawning 's  pallid  light 
The  sleeping  mist  creeps  timid  o'er. 
The  mazy  shrouds  flush  dull  and  cold 
To  pall  the  sun's  delightless  might, 
That  vain  his  golden  floods  doth  pour 
O'er  surgeless  vapors  chill  and  hoar. 


All  lonely  sing,  thou  tender  voice 
Astray  from  some  diviner  world; 
The  throng  hear  not — their  sordid  choice 
The  jangling  song  of  selfish  toil: 
Nor  will  they  on  those  wings,  unfurled, 
Of  light  and  love,  with  thee  rejoice 
To  cleave  of  earth  the  shrouding  veil 
And  float  in  dreams  where  sorrows  fail, 


147 


In  realms  where  thy  soul-harp,  fine-strung 
And  fragile  'mid  earth's  ragings  dire, 
Would  pant  the  magic  strains  that  hung 
Like  breathing  angels'  raptured  dreams. 
But  senses  cloyed  with  low  desire 
Can  hear  thee  not ;  and  thou  hast  sung 
Forlorn  in  thy  lone  sky  that  teems 
With  Heaven's  fairest  forms  and  gleams. 


The  murky  grime  of  senseless  strife 
Whose  mortal  pall  enshrouds  the  soul 
In  loathful  gyves,  about  thy  life 
Its  surgings  hurl ;  and  thou  must  flee 
Far  from  the  frenzied  tumult's  roll, 
That  grides  its  torment  o'er  thy  grief, - 
Deep  in  the  wilds  with  rock  and  tree, 
With  stream  and  flow'r  whose  melody 


148 


O'erfloods  and  soars  in  wild  delight 
On  noonday's  golden-gloried  wings, 
That  bear  the  yearning  spirit's  flight 
Thro'  cloud-land's  gloam  to  spirit-skies, 
Where  voiceful  Nature  dreams  and  sings 
Her  raptures  charmed  to  rainbowed  light ; 
And  with  her  thrilling  hymns  shall  rise 
Thine  own,  imbreathed  with  paradise. 


Here  rest  and  dream;  here  sing  and  soar 
Where  shadowed  solitudes  intone 
The  tuneful  airs  with  heav'nly  lore 
That  pulse  in  music  o'er  thy  pain. 
No  mortal  ears  shall  list  thy  moan, 
Where  glinting  streams  their  murmurs 

pour 
All  hush ; — where  songs  and  odors  wane, 
And  faint  upon  thy  sobf ul  strain. 


149 


Thy  feeble  song  throbs  faint  and  low 
While  zephyrs  waft  thy  music's  flight 
To  flowers  kissed  with  love's  soft  glow, 
To  rustling  leaves  that  float  and  sway 
A-dream  on  floods  of  stilled  delight. 
No  scorn  of  man,  no  blighting  woe, 
No  love-pangs  stifle  thy  breathed  lay, 
That,  hushing,  floods  the  waning  day. 


Sleep  in  the  golden  eventide 

Where  whisp 'rings  lull  the  fretting  leaves 

And  surgef ul  murmurs  softly  chide 

The  glooms  that  throng  the  silv'ry  stream. 

The  phantom-moon,  cloud-havened, 

weaves 
Her  veil  of  mist-gems  glancing  wide ; 
And  where  the  swooning  odors  teem 
The  flow'rs  all  pallid  listless  dream. 


150 


Thy  flushed  brow  grows  pale  and  chill 
In  airs  that  pant  their  last  warm  kiss : 
Thy  spirit's  plastic  pulses  thrill 
With  joys  divine  that  waft  thy  flight 
'Mid  angel-forms  of  love  and  bliss 
That  in  thy  earth-dreams  hovered  still. 
On  yon  bright,  reachless  glory-height 
Thy  havened  soul  its  throne  of  light, 


Envisioned  in  thy  yearning  dream, 
Doth  mount ;  while  mystic  thrills  of  bliss, 
From  viewless  choirs,  thy  soul  o'erstream. 
Thy  sky-lost  songs  of  joy  and  pain, 
Thy  yearnings  strange  for  perf ectness, 
Thy  sighs  and  tears,  thy  Love  supreme, 
Re-echo  here  in  Heaven's  fane 
And  hymn  Love's  universal  reign. 


151 


THE  STORM.— Sonnet. 

The  heavens  darken  with  the  palling  gloom 
Wild,  black  and  pathless  save  where 

arrowed  gleams 
Of  lightning  cleave  of  day  the  death- 
blight's  streams 
That  from  some  hidden  fount  obscure  as  doom 
O'erpour  in  inky  shrouds  the  sun's  veiled 
tomb: 
The  sallows  whiffle  in  the  gusts  where 

teem 
The  wreathing  vapors'  whirling  soughs 
that  seem 
To  bode  the  Fates  that  joy  and  hope  consume. 
With  howl  and  roar  the  shocking  thun- 
der-blast 
Grides  thro'  the  gloom  with  horror- 
gapings  riv'n: 
The  lightning's  flash  'mid  furies  hurled 
aghast 
Wild  raging  rives  the  grov'ling  earth 
and  heav'n: 
In  shattered  streams  the  rain-floods  cold 
and  fast 
Deluge  the  earth,  in  crashing  frenzy 
driv'n. 

152 


AUTUMN  LANDSCAPE.— Sonnet. 
The  rolling  hills  creep  slowly  toward  the 

sky, 

Swelling  with  verdant  mead  and  fallow 
brown; 
And  fringing  forests  all  the  landscape  nigh 
With  wondrous  stains  of  hued  apparel 
crown. 
Amid  the  sunlit  foliage  in  the  vale 

The  hamlet  gathers  by  the  winding  way, 
So  still  and  moveless  in  the  quiet  dale, 
So  clean  and  white  in  autumn's  rich  ar- 
ray. 
The  soft  and  misty  air  clings  like  a  pall 
Of  lovely  myst'ry  o'er  earth's  waning 
life, 
And  sad,  sweet  Glamour  with  her  gracious 
thrall, 
In  beauty  hides  all  trace  of  human 

strife. 
Oh,  that  the  world  as  pure  and  peaceful 

were, 
And  life,  a  mystic  dream  as  still  and 
fair! 

153 


THE  POET'S  HOPE.— Sonnet. 

Great  wealth  of  waters,  mystery  of  doom, 
What  f  ountf ul  sources  brim  thy  heaving 

breast 
We   know   not, — strange   as   poet-soul 
aghast 
Imbreathing    passive   whisp 'rings    from 

life's  gloom, 
Emits,  like  odor  from  a  dew-pearled  bloom 
A  symphony  sky-imaging  and  vast 
As  thy  broad  bosom  wild  and  overcast 
With    morn's    mere    splendors    life's 
gloamed  scenes  illume. 
So  mirrored  in  the  pure  soul's  omened 
stream 
No  griefful  darkness  but  the  dawn- 
ing's  light, 
Eainbowed    and    shadowless    as    lover's 
dream, 
Forebodes  the  perfect  day  ungloomed  in 
night, 
Whose  glories  thro'  grief -shrouded  ages 
gleam 
And  fill  my  soul  with  hope  in  man's  de- 
light. 

154 


BIRDS  AT  EVENING. 

The  scattered  clouds  are  mellow  stains 
On  gray-blue  skies  with  sunset  paling ; 

The  winds  are  hushed  as  daylight  wanes, 
Like  gloried  passion  failing. 


The  mists  are  cooling  o'er  the  stream 
Where  shadows  melt  to  somber  glooming 

Man's  toil  is  stilled  'neath  one  last  gleam 
Of  dying  sun's  illuming. 


How  sad  and  lonely  is  the  eve, 

How  strange  the  mystic  twilight  creep- 
ing! 
The  earth's  sweet  spirits  brood  and  grieve 

For  sunshine's  death, — all  weeping. 


Among  the  leaves'  dew-scented  shades 
Where  zephyrs  droop  in  secret  slumber, 

The  birds  hunt  through  the  dark'ning 
glades 
For  love-bow 'rs  hidden  under. 

155 


How  happy,  with  what  shrill  delight, 
Like  joyous  children  wildly  playing, 

Tumultuous  in  the  gath'ring  night 
They  flit  through  branches  swaying! 


How  eagerly  they  call  their  mates 
To  dark  retreats  secure  from  danger, 

Where  happy,  thoughtless  rest  awaits- 
And  peace — to  me  a  stranger ! 


The  night  to  thee  brings  sweet  content, 
No  past  regret,  no  promised  sorrow; 

To  me  a  dark  and  vain  lament 
And  trouble  for  the  morrow. 


Could  man  like  thee  as  sinless  live, 
As  free  from  want  and  care  and  pas- 
sion, 
Earth's  day  and  night  such  bliss  could 
give 
As  God  himself  might  fashion. 


156 


HOPE.— Sonnet. 

The  halting  morn  in  sombre  mists  inveiled 
Scarce  stirs  with  torpid  pallor  thro'  the 
gloom; 
And    when    the    night's    slow-creeping 

shroud  had  paled 
When  Luna's  bodeful  glow  with  dawning 
failed, 
The  humid  pall  dark  with  day's  sullen 

doom 
Its  chilly  blight  spread  ruthless  o'er 
night's  tomb. 
My  hopeful  heart  morn's  triumph  dark 
bewailed 
That  sorrow's  sluggish  shades  so  dull 

illume. 
While  rain-drops  chant  their  dirge  of 
settled  grief 
And  sighing  winds  creep  thro'  the 
shiv'ring  leaves, 
An  unknown  songster  with  her  carol  brief 
Their  monody  of  sadness  glad  relieves ; 
And  with  her  omened  lay  a  sweet  belief, 
Like  bursting  light,  my  list'ning  heart 
conceives. 

157 


ODE  ON  SYMPATHY. 

Ah,  hush  thy  dreamful  moans,  sad  heart, 
For  thro '  the  dernf ul  glooming  thrill 
Yet  sweeter  griefs  whose  flushes  part 
The  dark  pain-shrouds  with  gloried  marge. 
As  Orphean  harmonies  did  fill 
Stern  Pluto's  sphere  with  love-thrills  dear 
So  o'er  my  woe  fast  tremors  start 
From  mystic  source,  with  ebb  and  surge. 


Thou  Power !    What  passion  breathed  in 

vows, 
Aflame  that  fierce  consumes  the  soul, 
What  greed,  what  hate,  what  crushing 

woes, 
What  mad  despair  can  reach  thy  bourn, 
Thy  mystic  world  far  as  the  goal 
Of  spirit-flight  ?    What  forms  of  light 
Surge  round  thy  path !  What  beauty  glows 
Divine  as  irised  hues  of  morn ! 


158 


Thou  art  the  music  of  the  spheres 
That  thrills  and  floods  like  summer's  glow. 
He  who,  in  faint  awe  hushf ul,  hears, 
Soars,  spirit-wild,  upon  thy  flight 
That  bears  him,  tranced,  far  from  woe, 
Delights  and  fears,  to  Heav'nly  spheres 
Where,  glory-throned,  the  Great  Love  rears 
A  world  enshrined  in  fadeless  light. 

Like  one  who  starts  from  wildered  dreams 
Of  love  and  home,  whose  quiv'ring  sight 
O'er  prison-bars  and  darkness  streams, 
So  wakes  the  soul  on  earth  forlorn 
Thy  wings  once  bore  'mid  Heaven's  light : 
How  cold  the  mirth  of  mocking  earth, 
How  false  man's  pompous  progress  seems 
Whose  chilly  blight  o'ershrouds  love's  morn! 

Yet  does  thy  spirit-music  thrall ; 
His  soul  thy  lovely  visions  fill ; 
And  thro'  life's  mortal,  cruel  pall 
A  mighty  faith  and  hope,  sweet  balm, 
For  trammeled  man  doth  burst  and  thrill. 
That  love  thy  song  doth  hymn  as  strong 
As  light,  and  wide  as  worlds,  doth  lull 
Despair  and  Grief  to  mighty  calm. 

159 


He  feels  the  light  athrob  with  love, 
He  lists  the  strains  of  spirit-choirs 
That  o'er  his  pulsed  heart-chords  move 
Above  the  rage  of  want  and  woe. 
At  peace  in  pain  or  passion's  fires, 
He  loves  all  life,  thro'  whose  mean  strife 
Attaining  loftier  heights  above, 
Exalts  the  state  of  man  below. 


That  all  might  list  that  harmony 
Envisioned  in  celestial  Love, 
Those  joys  of  Beauty  fadeless  see, 
Those  love-thrills  soul-transforming 
.    know ! 

Sweet  spirit-grace  our  lives  would  move, 
And  song  and  glow  of  peace  o'erflow 
Our  crime-gloomed  state,  with  ecstasy, 
Till  Heaven  dwells  on  earth  below. 


160 


LOVE  AND  LONELINESS. 
ToD. 

How  few  the  souls  that  feel  thy  thrall, 

That  in  thy  deep  distress, 
Engulfs  my  wearied  mind  and  all 
My  being  'neath  the  darkened  pall 

Of  love  and  loneliness ! 


Enshrouded  in  thy  haunted  spell, 

By  all  doomed  save  desire, — 
A  dying  slave  beside  a  rill, 
I  sink  to  feel  the  torturing  thrill 
Thy  passion-drops  inspire : 


Yet  live :  nor  feel  the  mad  delight 

To  quaff  its  crystal  stream. 
My  soul  seeks  thro'  the  world  of  night 
A  heav'nly  vision,  lovely,  bright, — 
Spirit  of  thought  and  dream. 


161 


I  wander  widly  in  the  maze 

Whose  depths  so  few  have  known, 
By  Wisdom,  then  by  Folly's  craze 
Impelled,  deluded  in  the  haze 

Life's  doubt  has  o'er  me  thrown. 


The  soul's  light  passes  like  a  dream, — 

Of  vapors  hov'ring  light, 
Dissolved  in  some  pain-charmed  gleam, 
That  vanishing,  doth  scarcely  seem 

To  cool  its  mortal  blight. 


That  soul-stream's  depth  of  sympathy 

For  life  can  men  perceive  f 
Or  know  the  great  infinity 
Of  Love, — the  sweet  divinity 

That  gives  but  pow'r  to  grieve  1 


For  ravishing  in  soul-delight 

Is  sorrow's  beauteous  charm — 
That  fines  the  heart  with  purging  blight, 
And  lifts  it  pure  to  Heaven's  sight, 
Above  the  world's  alarm. 

162 


As  scent  of  rare  and  crushed  flow'rs 

In  dying  doth  suffuse 
The  fleeting  air,  and  Nature's  bow'rs 
Are  gladdened  in  the  odorous  show'rs, — 

So  sorrows  deep  diffuse 

Their  tones  of  gracious  harmony 

O  'er  all  our  heedless  life, 
And  thrill  the  chords  of  sympathy, 
Of  love  and  beauteous  charity 

For  suffering  and  strife. 

Thou  light    'mid   shrouding  gloom   and 
dark, 

Thou  sorrow-stricken  flame, 
Beam  out,  for  God  nurtures  thy  spark : 
Tho'  from  the  blinded  world  no  mark 

Thou  gain  of  pow'r  or  fame : 

Tho'  listless  still  or  raging  loud 

The  vulgar  throng  may  jeer, 
A  raptured  few  divine  endowed 
Stand  mute,  entranced,  their  souls  low- 
bowed 

Thy  rhapsody  to  hear. 

163 


Tho'  buried  in  the  shrouding  veil 

Of  crushing  destiny, 
Thy  soul  shall  rise.    Tho'  glory  fail 
From  earth,  and  lusterless  and  pale 

Thy  dreamed  felicity, 


The  arrowed  pain,  the  startling  tear, 

The  joy  in  man's  delight, 
The  anguish-strife  of  love  and  fear, 
The  throbbing  pain  in  others'  care 

Touched  by  some  spirit-light, 


To  angels'  wings  transformed  divine, 

Shall  fold  thy  fainting  soul: 
While  peaceful  splendors  o'er  thee  shine, 
In  ecstasy  thou  shalt  resign 

Thy  strife,  at  Heaven's  goal. 


Thou  Spirit-pow  'r !    Too  often  tho ', 

Bound  in  thy  torturing  fire, 
I  feel  my  passion's  soul  aglow, 
And  all  my  being  faint  with  woe, — 
The  birth  of  high  desire. 

164 


Ah,  man  is  powerless.    Love  and  joy, 

Sweet  dreams  of  harmonies, 
Flow  on  unfelt.    Life's  sad  alloy 
Pervades  our  all.    Fail  and  destroy, 
And  grieve  are  destinies. 


Infinity  is  Love.    The  soul, 

The  limitless,  is  free ; 
The  uncreated,  whose  control 
Is  possibility, — the  whole 
Of  man's  divinity. 


And  in  its  yearnings  toward  some  light 

Alone  'tis  unconfined. 
All  is  reality's  black  night, 
And  feebly  soars  that  passion-flight, — 

A  life  in  death  enshrined. 


Yet  shalt  thou  be,  O,  soul,  so  lone  ? — 

Lo,  love's  forsaken  shrine 
Yet  gleams  with  radiance  unknown, 
And  human  hearts  shall  yet  enthrone 
That  Spirit  all  divine. 

165 


Felicity  would  then  be  mine. 

That  infinite,  unknown 
Affection's  pow'r  should  soft-entwine 
My  pulsing  life,  and  joy  divine 

Of  Passion  be  mine  own. 


O,  radiant  Ideality, 

Inspire  us  with  thy  might, 
And  all  this  sordid  lethargy 
Of  life  will  glow  eternally 

Divine  with  splendors  bright. 


Oh,  spirit  lovely,  dwell  with  mine 

In  constant,  sweet  devotion ! 
Ah,  madly  do  I  yearn  and  pine 
That  thou,  dear  Vision,  might 'st  enshrine 

Thy  soul  in  my  emotion. 


166 


HARMONIES. 
I. 

I  wandered  lonely  as  a  dream 
Afar  'mid  forms  of  boundless  night, 

Where  every  sight  and  sound  did  seem 
Descended  from  some  height 

So  vast  and  still  that  my  own  soul 

Could  reach  and  grasp  the  mystic  whole 
Of  huge  creation's  might. 


In  awe  I  heard  the  rolling  world 
With  myriad  voices  breathe  subdued, 

Like  soughing  zephyrs  softly  furled 
In  swoons  of  evening  wood ; 

Like    some    great    passion's    whispered 
charms 

Of  day  still  trembling  in  night's  arms 
With  spirit-rest  imbued. 


167 


A  distance  deep  of  space  and  time 
Encompassed  all  with  mystic  might — 

A  reign  so  gracious  and  sublime 
That  every  voice  of  night 

Was  soothed  and  blent  to  one  vast  tone 

Like  choiring  hosts  in  unison 
All  hushed  in  strange  delight. 

The  stormy  world  was  still  in  sleep ; 

The   blust'ring  winds   to   peace  were 
lulled; 
The  stars  seemed  hung  in  hueless  deep 

In  silent  ardor  held. 
Oh,  strange  and  vast  that  force  sublime 
That  clasped  all  earth  and  space  and  time, 

To  strifeless  poise  compelled! 

The  sweet  accord  of  law  divine 

With  breathless   wonder   thrilled   my 
heart — 
That  rare,  harmonious  design 

Night's  deepest  glooms  impart. 
I  heard  earth's  solemn  mystery 
Eevealed  in  murmured  symphony, 

With  weird  and  wondrous  art. 

168 


II. 

I  wandered  through  the  boundless  day, 
When  wide  the  gilded  heavens  shone 

Aglow  with  grace  of  gushing  May 
When  winter's  grasp  was  gone. 

All  life  was  stirring  with  the  birth 

Of  myriad  forms  in  air  and  earth — 
Fair  summer's  teeming  zone. 


There  seemed  to  rise  from  every  place 
A  tone  of  swarming  motion  vast. 

The  sprites  of  spring  in  copious  grace 
With  warmth  and  wealth  o'ercast 

Profusion  rich  with  reeking  life, 

Increasing,  swelling,  blooming  rife, 
O'er  all  the  earth  enmassed. 


The  stress  of  animation  surged 
And  billowed  o'er  the  seething  land; 

The  resurrection  vigor  urged 
The  strain  and  struggle  grand : 

Yet,  marvelous  to  human  sense, 

The  bursting,  throbbing  toil  intense 
Seemed  blent  by  God's  command 

160 


To  one  sweet  goal  of  mighty  life — 

Of  vast  and  vital  luxury ; 
For  naught  of  violence  and  strife 

In  spring's  great  mystery. 
Some  wondrous  wand  or  charm  of  day 
Its  sorc'ry  breathed  o'er  mellow  May, 

With  magic  unity. 

The  rich-hued  blooms  blent  with  the  green, 

And  through  the  scented,  vibrant  air 
The  dew  flung  back  day's  glory-sheen — 

A  trembling  echo  rare ; 
And    purling    streams    their    murmurs 

hushed 
Where    thrilling    strains    of    song-birds 
gushed 
In  concord  strange  and  fair. 

My  soul  was  filled  with  law  divine 

Revealed  by  day's  sweet  minstrelsy. 
I  saw  through  Nature's  veiled  design 
Its  lovely  mystery 
With  spirit-stress  all  things  imbue, 
According  every  tone  and  hue 
To  perfect  harmony. 

170 


III. 

I    wandered    through    the    sun-realm's 
course, 
And  saw  the  planet-orbs  swing  'round, 
Age  after  age,  by  viewless  force 
Kept  in  eternal  bound. 
The    flame-sheathed   sun   and   all   his 

swarm 
Swept  through  black  space  and  mar- 
shalled form, 
With  mirrored  brilliance  crowned. 


The  reeking  bulk  of  comet-mass 
Plunged    o'er    the    plane    of    circling 
spheres, 
Beyond  the  sunless  bounds  to  pass 
And  surge  a  thousand  years 
In  ebon  night ;  and  wheel  again 
Through  measured  arc  with  seething 
train 
That  frightened  heaven  blears. 


171 


I  saw  the  rolling  systems  fare 

With  mutual  orb  and  satellite, 
Great  starry  hosts  in  fiery  glare 
Rush  on  in  furious  flight. 
And  some  were  black, — great  deadened 

worlds 
Forever  hurled  in  midnight's  swirls, 
Once  bulks  of  bursting  light. 


Stupendous  magnitudes  of  gas, 

In  whirling  spires  of  flaming  fume, 
Their  million  miles  of  monstrous  mass 
Rage  through  the  seething  gloom. 
In  fire  of  vapored  fury  spun, 
The  nebulous  molds  of  star  and  sun 
Arise  from  creant  doom. 


Oh,  universe  of  majesties, 

Oh,  myriad  worlds  in  vast  array, 
What  might  of  mystic  harmonies 
Impels  your  mutual  sway? 
What  infinite  succession's  plan, 
What  symmetry  and  poise  maintain 
The  concord  of  your  way? 

172 


IV. 

I  wandered  in  the  ways  of  man — 

The  last,  the  highest  work  sublime, 
Supreme  in  vast  creation's  plan 
O  'er  world  and  space  and  time, 
Endowed    with    soul    and    heart    and 

thought 
Above  all  forms  of  matter,  wrought 
In  life's  eternal  prime. 

I  heard  the  roar  and  raucous  din 

Of  surging  throngs  in  struggle  vain — 
The  rush  and  rage,  the  hate  and  sin 
In  strife  for  wealth  and  gain. 
And  o'er  the  blinded  human  host 
The  sprites  of  envy,  greed  and  lust 
Spread  forth  their  poisoned  bane. 

There  was  no  peace  or  sweet  content 

In  home  or  city,  field  or  mart : 
In  industry  and  government 

Strife  ruled  the  hand  and  heart. 
In  discord  harsh,  in  wrangling  low, 
With  neighbor,  rival,  friend  and  foe, 
Each  sought  his  sordid  part. 

178 


Engorged  with  self  the  sodden  sense 

Degraded  God's  eternal  plan, 
And  groveled  in  abasement  dense 
The  vaunted  soul  of  man : 
Dull  eyes  that  ne'er  God's  glory  saw 
In  poise  of  worlds,  in  deathless  law 
Of  concord's  triumph-reign. 


Distorted,  lost,  forgotten  all 

The  wondrous  night's  superb  display ! 
Defiled  and  stained  with  evil's  pall 

The  glory  of  the  day ! 
Oh,  spirit-harmonies  divine, 
Attune  our  souls  to  thy  design 

That  doth  all  being  sway ! 


174 


ASPIRATION.— Sonnet. 

Pale  art  thou,  Spirit,  like  a  distant  star 
Silent  and  reachless  in  the  void  inane, 
In  ceaseless  luster  shrined  without  a 
stain, 
Save  when  earth's  transient  vapors  rayless 

mar 
Thy  majesty.    When  gates  of  night  unbar 
And  flood  the  world  in  blackness'  dismal 

reign 
Then    dost    thou    rive    with    arrowed 
gleams  the  bane 
And  steep  the  world  in  light-floods  from 
afar. 
Thus   art   thou,   aspiration,   steadfast, 
pure, 
Cheering  sin-trammeled  souls  thro' 
maze  of  grief ; 
E'er  brightest  where  the  glooms  of  pain 
endure, 
And  rainbow-haloed  in  the  mists  of  strife 
'Mid  baleful,  blighting  cares  thou  dost  al- 
lure 
Our  feet  to  yon  far  glory-throne  of 
life. 

175 


BILLY. 
To  C. 

Somehow  the  summer  air  seems  cold, 

And  noonday  skies  are  dim, 
And  nature's  charms  grow  dull  and  old 
Whene'er  I  think  of  him. 
And  though  the  world  may  call  me 
silly— 
Oh,  how  I  miss  you,  Billy ! 


The  meadow  where  you  ran  and  played 

With  bounding  life  and  joy, — 

It  seems  the  grass  and  clover  fade 

With  some  strange,  dead  alloy. 

The  kindly  sun  grows  sad  and  chilly, 
For,  oh,  I  miss  you,  Billy. 


176 


The  house  is  cheerless ;  every  room 

Is  empty,  lone  and  bare. 
It  doesn't  seem  the  same  old  home 
With  you  no  longer  there. 
But  when  night  comes  so  dark  and 
stilly, 
Oh,  then  I  miss  you,  Billy. 


My  boat,  deserted,  seems  to  wait. 

Your  friends,  the  birds,  are  still. 
The  little  isle  is  desolute 
Your  joyous  barks  did  fill. 

My  life  is  lone  and  fares  but  illy, — 
So  much  I  miss  you,  Billy. 


No  more  you  sorrow  when  I  go, 

Or  wait  my  sad  return. 
The  gleesome  hills  are  still  with  woe, 
And  fields  in  silence  yearn. 

The  crying  jays  all  mourn  you  shrilly, 
And  oh,  I  miss  you  Billy. 


177 


Only  a  dog !    Oh,  could  I  keep 

The  love  of  such  a  friend ! 
Forever  tender,  pure  and  deep, 
So  faithful  to  the  end ! 
Your  soul  was  white  as  any  lily, 
And  oh,  I  miss  you,  Billy. 


And  you  loved  her,  and  she  loved  you, 

We  all  loved  one  another ; 
And  no  companions  were  more  true, — 
So  we  two  weep  together. 
And  now  life's  road  seems  rough  and 
hilly- 
For,  oh,  we  miss  you,  Billy. 


178 


MOENING.— Sonnet. 

The  fair  Aurora  with  her  dazzling  train 
Sweeps  radiant  o'er  the  bourn  of  despot 

Night 
Who  feels  the  tremor  of  her  conq'ring 
flight: 
And  when  the  stars,  his  sentries,  pale  and 

wane, 
He  flees  in  sullen  wrath  his  wide  domain. 
The  world,  subdued  and  voiceless  'neath 
his  might, 
Arises,  thrilled  with  dawn  and  robed  in 

light, 
To  hymn  the  radiant  Morning's  joyful 
reign. 
The  dew-gems  flame  with  splendor;  and 
the  stream 
That  hushed  beneath  her  shroud  of 
sombre  gray, 
Across  her  surging  breast  with  tint  and 
gleam 
Spreads  fast  her  path-floods  silvered 
o'er  with  day; 

179 


And  songsters'  thrilling  strains  and  for- 
est-hymn 
Pant  with  my  heart  the  bliss  of  wan- 
ing May. 


180 


NOON.— Sonnet. 

To  dazzling  glory-floods  the  bursting  sun 
Melts  all  his  gleaming  gold ;  the  radiant 

sky, 
Transfused  with  hueless  splendor,  now 
on  high 
Glows  white  where  morn's  far  azure  depth 

had  shone, 
Save  where,  'mid  fringed  marge  of  yon 
high  cone, 
In  captive  bow'rs  the  deep'ning  blue 

doth  lie. 
The  rhapsodies  of  some  thrilled  song- 
ster nigh 
With  mazy  bliss  noon's  vibrant  lights  in- 
tone: 
And  while  the  floods  of  brilliance  burst 
and  flow, 
Reflected   on    the    dancing,    rippled 
stream 

In  glintings  swift  like  flashing  stars 
aglow, — 
The  tonef ul  airs  that  flush  and  thrill, 
ateem 

181 


With  gladness,  life  and  light  Thou  dost 
bestow, 
With  Nature's  voice  Thy  deathless 
glories  hymn. 


182 


EVENING.— Sonnet. 

The    shadows    fall.      Above    yon    mist- 
dimmed  hill 
The  lurid  sun  flames  o'er  a  vermeil  sea 
Where  day,  aswoon,  to  gloried 
pageantry 
Melts  all  her  radiant  hues.    The  flushful 
thrill 
Floods,  tingeing  like  despair  the  hills 
and  sky, 
As  calm  as  mighty  griefs  some  great  soul  fill. 
An  ebbing  zephyr  languid  breathes  its  sigh, 
And  plaintful  songsters  pant  their  carols 
still. 
Across  the  surgeless  stream's  o'ershad- 

owed  breast 
The  mirrored  trees  recline  in  moveless 

rest; 
And  like  the  voiceful  silence  of  a  dream, 
The  solitudes  intone  their  twilight  hymn 
That,  like  my  heart,   pales  with  the 
glooming  west, 
When  Vesper  greets  the  night  with 
one  white  gleam. 

183 


NIGHT.— Sonnet. 

From  what  hid  depths  of  blackness,  lethal 
Night, 
Abysmal  as  the  source  of  ruthless  doom, 
Hast  thou  in  ebon  streams  poured  o'er 
earth-gloom 
Thy  leaden  pall  amassed,  yon  star  despite 
That,  sullied  in  the  inky,  mistf ul  blight, 
To  bodeful,  haloed  glows  thy  veils  illume  $ 
Thy  sluggish  shrouds,  thick,  sensate  as 
the  tomb, 
In  swelling  floods  veil  earth  in  sombre  might. 
Some  pallid  cloud-heaps  surge  their 
broken  wreathes 
About  the  ghastly  moon  that  hangs  in 
wane 
Of  omened  gold  the  lurking  mist  en- 
sheathes  ; 
And  from  the  world  asleep  one  mur- 
murous strain 
Pants  where  the  ebbing  zephyr  fitful 
breathes 
To  waft  to  Thee  my  solemn  love's  re- 
frain. 

184 


ODE  ON  THE  TRANQUILITY  OF 
THE  SOUL. 

From  what  mysterious  realms  of  spirit- 
might 

Thou  art,  'mid  whose  unfathomed  gloom, 
O  soul, 

Thou  with  the  One  Eternal  sourceless 
dwelt, 

Our  fettered  minds  conceive  not.  To  what 
goal 

Thy  guideless  course  in  swift,  earth-tram- 
meled flight 

Doth  strive,  beyond  life's  wildered  world 
exalt, 

We  know  not.  Yet  must  thou  deathless 
and  free 

Flow  back  to  thine  exhaustless  Fount  of 
Light, 

Purged  from  the  dross  of  vain  mortality. 


Thou  firmless  Essence  of  Divinity, 
Thou  fleeting  portion  of  the  Primal  Soul, 
What  mocking,  powerless  ills  of  subject- 
time 

185 


Or  mortal  being's  imaged  spectres  dull 
Can  reach  thy  spirit-realm's  far  sanctity. 
'Mid   earth-born  forms   thou   from  thy 

throne  sublime, 
Exalt  above  our  world  of  paltry  life, 
Its  passion,  chance,  its  joy  and  misery, 
Dost  dwell  a  moment  'mid  our  frenzied 
strife. 


And  thou  alone  art  life :  our  mortal  state, — 
A  vanished  moment,  or  a  broken  dream, 
A  body  reared  of  finely-tempered  clay, 
Empyreal  dust  inwrought  with  Heaven's 

gleam, — 
Is  but  thy  fane,  thy  dwelling  consecrate ; 
And  from  the  world  of  evil  and  decay 
Where  Mammon  goads  to  hate  and  lust 

and  fear, 
With  misery  and  crime  his  slaves  to  sate, 
No  mightless  ill  shall  reach  thy  hallowed 

sphere, 


Save  thro'  our  guidless  will's  supreme  de- 
sire: 

186 


For  fear,  disaster,  calumny  and  pain, 
Despair  and  loss,  that, — monsters  haggish, 

— seem 
Their  orgies  foul  with  ruin's  feasts  to 

stain, 
Are  naught  but  seemings  pale  or  spectres 

dire 
That  ghastly   flitting   thro'   life's   fitful 

dream 
Affright  of  craven  man  the  dreadful  sight. 
For  know  ye  not  that  all  events  transpire 
By  His  own  will  who  gave  thy  soul  the 

might 


Exalt  above  appearance,  visions  vain 
O'er  whose  strange  course  our  wills  have 

no  control ; 
And  that  from  evil  thou  canst  feel  no 

harm, 
Whose  fate  secure  rests  with  the  Primal 

Soul? 
So  shalt  thou  e'er  content  thee  to  remain 
Where  He  has  deemed  thee  fit,  without 

alarm. 

187 


Thus  ever  harmless  'mid  life's  trooping 

ills 
Thy  soul  shall  rest  in  peace,  nor  feel  the 

bane 
Of  agony  that  hearts  more  mortal  fills. 


Yet  shouldst  thou  in  that  strife  that  death 
destroys — 

That  tragic  mask  that  hides  'neath  hor- 
ror's face 

A  form  of  wondrous  beauty — lose  thy 
faith, 

Thine  honor,  purity  or  truth  debase, 

Then  hast  thou  suffered,  for  sin's  base  al- 
loys 

The  radiance  of  thy  soul  have  tinged  with 
death; 

For  thou  hast  bowed,  at  Evil's  slavery- 
shrine, 

The  God  within  thee,  where  desire  decoys 

The  soul  to  serfdom  from  its  realm  divine. 


Thou  sourceless,  deathless  Night,  this  is 
thy  sphere, — 

188 


That  good  or  evil  thou  dost  e'er  create 

Thro'  our  own  will, — aversion  or  desire: 

And  from  ourselves  all  that  is  good  and 
great 

Or  vile  and  paltry  by  our  choice  appear. 

Wouldst  thou  to  greatness  of  the  soul  as- 
pire, 

Or  wouldst  thou  feel  a  mighty  noble- 
ness?— 

Then  have  it  from  thyself ; — thy  wish  sin- 
cere 

Can  nigh  exalt  thy  life  to  perf ectness. 


He  who  attunes  his  soul  to  harmony, 
Who  with  the  hymning  spheres  can  grand- 
ly say, 
"O  Universe,  all  that  with  thee  accords 
Shall  harmonize  with  my  own  soul  alway," 
Hath  quaffed  the  nectar  of  Divinity: 
E'en  tribulation  or  distress  affords 
A  peaceful  gratitude,  a  calm  supreme, 
Whose  mighty  soul  doth  tone  its  symphony 
To  enthean  strains  the  angels  ceaseless 
hymn. 

189 


Wouldst  thou  be  tranquil,  weary,  striving 

soul?— 
Then  shalt  thou  with  immortal  faith  but 

learn 
To  wish  that  all  may  happen  as  it  does ; 
And  tho '  for  heights  unseen  thou  e'er  shalt 

yearn, 
Yet  He  who  hath  all  things  in  His  control 
In  wisdom  fathomless  shall  each  dispose : 
For  tho'  thy  finite  mind  shall  not  foresee 
An  atom  of  His  plan's  majestic  whole, 
All  is  and  moves  for  His  world's  harmony. 


Hast  thou  ne'er  felt  that  with  all  earthly 
things 

A  concord  strange  with  Heav'nly  states 
doth  reign? — 

A  harmony  divine  whose  mystic  strains 

Thou  oft  hast  heard  in  yon  still  forest- 
fane, 

Where,  'mid  the  birds'  wild,  gladsome  car- 
ols, sings 

The  voiceful  solitudes;  and  strange  re- 
frains 

190 


Of  murmuring  winds  and  rustling  leaves 

intone 
The  airs  with  Nature's  omened  echoings 
Of  lights  and  sounds  that  thrill  from 

Heaven's  throne. 


And  how,  thro'  mingled  worlds  of  soul  and 

space, 
Is  this  accord  preserved,  save  by  His  hand 
Who  orders  all  aright  ?    Behold  the  flow'r 
That  opes  its  folded  leaves  at  His  com- 
mand: 
And  when  He  bids  it  bloom  in  sweetest 

grace 
Doth  it  not  blossom  tranquil  'neath  His 

Pow'H 
And  when  in  peaceful  rest  of  dewy  night 
He  bids  it  droop  its  leaves ;  and  when  the 

face 
Of  Nature  blushes  in  the  Autumn's  blight, 


Doth  it  not  yield  its  impulse  pure  to  Him, 
And  sleep  when  night  and  winter's  chill 
encroach  ? — 

191 


And  how,  when  Luna  full  doth  glow,  or 
wane, 

Or  at  the  sun's  recession  or  approach 

Do  changes  vast  occur? — That  God  su- 
preme 

In  harmony  the  universe  shall  reign. 

Then  know,  O  heart  that  yearnest  for  re- 
pose, 

That  Nature's  sacred  concord  may  redeem 

To  tranquil  rest  thy  human  world  of  woes. 


Her  deep  revealings  seek.    Learn  to  ac- 
cord 
To  her  appointed  states  thy  life  and  soul ; 
For  this  is  truth :  her  God  to  contemplate, 
She  manifests  in  sovereign  control. 
Who  lives  in  error  is  a  slave  abhorred 
Whose   soul   he    subjects   to    externals' 

fate, — 
To  strife  and  greed,  to  passion  and  de- 
spair; 
Who  faith  and  love  in  vanity  ignored 
And  feeds  his  life  with  vulgar,  earthy  fare. 


192 


But  who  are  kings  of  earth,  whose  spirits 

see, 
Beyond  the  veil  of  being,  realms  divine, 
And  thro'  the  raging  storm  of  paltry  life 
Their  souls  in  tranquil  blessedness  en- 
shine  f — 
They  who,  attuned  to  Nature's  harmony, 
Their  souls,  amid  man's  loveless,  frenzied 

strife, 
Enwreathe  in  peace  thro'  mighty  love  and 

faith; 
Who,  'mid  false  spectres  of  reality 
And  semblances  of  mocking  fate  and  death 


Keep  undeceived  and  unbetrayed  by  strife 
Their  souls  inviolate,  unstained  by  woes, 
Untrameled  in  earth's  mocking  vanities, 
But  havened  in  sweet,  halcyon  repose ; 
Who  while  they  live  to  love  all  human  life, 
Expect  their  Master's  signal,  to  arise 
Transformed  to  firmless  soul  in  spheres 

above, 
In  joy  to  do  the  bidding  of  their  Chief, 
Or  tranquil  rest  with  the  one  Primal  Love. 

193 


THE  SUPREME  GOOD.— Sonnet. 
O  'er  all  the  earth  I  blindly  sought  for  love 
And  found  it  not  through  years  of  var- 
ied strife. 
Through  luxury's   realms   and   common 
ways  I  strove, 
Where  men,  lost  in  the  vanities  of  life, 
Seek  happiness  in  vast  possession's  hoard, 
And  joy  in  gross  excess  of  goods  and 
gold; 
And  some  seek  fame  as  their  immortal 
lord, 
And  some  exult  in  pleasures  manifold. 
But  one  I  saw  whose  sad  and  radiant  face 
Was  like  a  soul  transformed  to  human 
grace; 
Nor  joy,  nor  wealth  he  knew — his  one 
desire 
To  cure  life's  ills  and  ease  its  common 
woe; 
And  he  alone  seemed  great  and  good  and 

fair. 
Oh,  was  it  Christ  or  man? — I  do  not 
know. 

194 


THE  PRAYER  OF  THE 
PANTHEIST.— Sonnet. 

Ye  spirit-glories  of  the  air  and  sky, 
Ye  pow'rs  of  earth,  ye  angels  of  the 

deep, 
Whom  God  created  Nature's  watch  to 
keep 
In  all  His  worlds  of  sovereign  majesty: — 
Oh,  guard  and  guide  me  from  your  thrones 
on  high, 
Through   secret  thoughts   and  mystic 

charms  of  sleep : 
When  ruin  raves  and  evils  crushing 
sweep, 
To  favor,  bless  and  aid,  be  ever  nigh. 
And  ye,  fond  loves  and  tender  beauties 
pure, 
Thrilling  all  life  with  vital  mystery, 
Inspire  my  being  with  celestial  lore, 

Attune  my  heart  to  heav'nly  harmony; 
Oh,  loveliness  divine,  my  soul  allure 
To  triumph-skies  and  realms  of  ecstasy. 


195 


KEVOLUTION.— Sonnet. 
Over  the  raging  world  a  spirit  passed — 
A  wraith  of  weird  despair  and  conflict 
vast, 
And  men  arose,  as  slaves  chained  to  the 

soil, 
From  hunger's  pangs,  from  grief  and 
fruitless  toil; 
And  fired  to  war  with  madd'ning  woes 
aghast, 
Spread  o'er  the  earth  to  conquer  or  de- 
spoil ; 
And  all  the  wealth  and  pow'r  through 
ages  massed 
Were  crushed  to  dust  in  hideous  tur- 
moil. 
From  depths  of  utter  ruin  slowly  rose 
A  people  strange  burned  white  by  fining 
fire. 
And  from  the  night  of  desolation's  woes 
They  reared  a  structure  high  as  God's 
desire  ; 
And  in  that  beauteous  realm  where  sor- 
rows cease 
They  dwelt  as  one  vast  soul  in  love  and 
peace. 

196 


THE  LIGHT  OF  NEW  YEAE. 

Like  stars  that  pale  in  dawning 's  gleam, 
Like  mists  dissolving  in  the  light, 

Like  music  waning  in  a  dream, — 

The  Old  Year  faints  and  fails  and  dies 

Consumed  and  lost  in  Time's  fell  flight. 
Engulfed  in  glooms  of  oblivion  vast, 
Sunk  in  soundless  depths  there  lies 
One  year  of  life  forever  past. 


Laden  with  weight  of  woes  it  went 
For  millions  plunged  in  want  and  care ; 

And  light  with  ease  and  soft  content 
For  thousands  lulled  in  Fortune's  arms. 

Oh,  vanished  year,  and  did  you  bear 
One  grace  for  me  to  God  above, 
Who  turned  from  all  thy  selfish  charms, 
To  dare  the  dream  of  Human  Love  f 


197 


And  now,  oh  vast  and  viewless  realm 

Of  future  time,  I  turn  to  thee, 
And  lofty  hopes  my  doubts  o'erwhelm, 

Like  mighty  dawn  that  floods  the  night. 
Before  me  sweeps  a  surging  sea 
Of  gloried  gold  and  rose,  where  day 
Pours    radiant   streams   of   throbbing 
light 

That  spread  o'er  heaven's  boundless 
way. 


'Tis  New  Year's  Morn.    The  glory-glow, 
That    sets    the    night-gloomed    world 
aflame, 
Must  fire  the  souls  of  men  below 

And  thrill  them  with  the  Light  of  God. 
No  more  the  sin-eursed  darks  of  shame 

Shall  stain  the  radiance  of  the  soul 
That  rises  from  the  sordid  sod 
And  yearns  afar  to  Heaven's  goal. 


198 


So  let  thy  gleams,  returning  year, 

Consume  the  dross  and  purge  the  grime 
Of  greed  and  self,  of  hate  and  fear 

That  chain  the  soul  to  groveling  strife. 
Our  hearts  burned  white  with  fire  su- 
blime 
Of  holier  griefs,  shall  purer  be 
For  world-wide  sympathy  of  life — 
The  soul  of  Christ's  Divinity. 


Oh,  glorious  seraph-wings  of  splendor, 

Bear  to  earth  great  floods  of  love 
As  broad  and  deep,  as  sweet  and  tender 
As  the  light  of  this  New  Morn. 
Ah,  then  our  human  griefs  would  prove 

The  source  of  soul-compassion  free, 
The  crown  of  happiness  pain-born, 
The  tear-lit  fount  of  ecstasy. 


199 


THE  POWERS  THAT  BE. 

Ye  vanities  of  human  pow'r, 
Ye  earthly  mights  exalt  o'er  man, 
In  fortune,  birth,  in  wealth  or  reign, 
Do  ye  forget  God's  wondrous  plan 
Bestowed  on  thee  thy  paltry  dow'r — 
A  trust  thou  one  day  shalt  return, 
Rewarded,  or  condemned?    How  vain 
Your  blind  desires  and  self -greeds  burn! 


How  shameful  gloats  that  bigot-sight, 
Torpid  and  bleared  with  fleshy  rheum, — 
That  leers  upon  the  world  of  life 
Infected  with  thy  self-love's  doom — 
That  gr&sps  God's  heritage  of  light 
A  thing  to  barter,  weigh  and  sell, 
To  turn  to  gain,  to  greed  and  strife 
That  cloy  life's  stream  with  crime-dregs 
fell! 


200 


And  will  ye  have  and  hoard,  nor  know 
That  all  your  sated  cravings  coarse, 
Your  wanton  revels,  mirthful  ease 
And  glutton  pleasures'  wasteful  farce 
Are  sprites  of  death  that  pale  your  brow 
With  mocking  flush  of  last  desire 
That  joys  divine  alone  appease 
When  death  has  purged  earth-dross  with 
fire?— 

Ah,  pause  in  this  vain  strife  with  Death. 
Thou  canst  not  luxury-blear  his  eyes 
Nor  glut  with  gold  his  venom-greed. 
Pow'r  naught  avails,  but  Love  defies 
His  dreaded  might;  and  holy  faith 
In  human  destiny  of  love 
Alone  thy  storm-lost  soul  can  lead 
To  fairer  havens  calm  above. 

Alone ;  for  all  thy  might  and  gold 

Is  not  of  pomp  or  sumptuous  state, 

But  merged  in  tears,  and  reared  of  sighs, — 

The  orphan's  moan,  the  soldier's  fate, 

The  widow's  pang  of  want  and  cold, 

The  dull  fatigue  of  praiseless  toil. 

The  thousand  minions  you  despise 

Who  grovel  for  your  ease,  and  moil 

201 


In  ceaseless  hardship,  pain  and  want, — 
Prom  them,  thou  blinded  vain,  thy  lot 
Is  herited,  of  wealth  or  pow'r. 
The  sin-grimed  glory  thou  hast  sought 
But  taints  thy  soul ;  thy  pomp  and  vaunt, 
To  whom  much  hath  committed  been, 
Cry  out  against  thee  in  that  hour 
When  God  shall  try  the  souls  of  men. 

Then  seek  not  pow'r  or  wealth  of  earth 
Whose  canker  eats  the  deathless  soul. 
There  is  a  gem  whose  flood-gleams  dear 
O'er  earth  their  tranced  glories  roll. 
Prom  some  pure  soul  'mid  human  dearth 
It  thrills  the  earth : — O  holy  Love, 
That  glows  the  flushing  heavens  o'er, 
And  wooes  to  earth  God's  reign  above! 

Ah,  canst  thou  climb  yon  glory-height 

Transcendent  in  the  day  enshrined? 

Ah,  canst  thou  leave  the  strife  and  grime, 

And  cast  from  thee  what  fetters  bind, — 

What  rankling  wealth,  what  mean  delight, 

What  hate  and  fear,  what  base  desire? 

Then,  in  the  glow  of  love  sublime 

With  vital  faith  for  man,  aspire 

202 


Not  yet  to  cleave  the  upper  airs 

Of  exultation, — but,  adown 

That  wild  abyss  of  blackened  night, 

Where  fell  Destruction's  demons  crown 

Humiliation  with  despairs, 

Where  torture  drives  thee  on,  descend, 

And  let  thy  rescued  soul  in  might 

Of  some  diviner  anguish  blend. 


Now  shalt  thou  rise !  Thy  life  elate 
From  fining  depths  of  crushing  woe 
So  purged  from  earth's  vile  dross  and 

blight 
Aspires  to  sky-lit  heights  where  flow 
Prom  soul-realms  of  the  pure  and  great 
Love's  glory-floods,  o'er  man's  abode, 
That   thrills   the   world   with   Heaven's 

might 
And  yearnings  infinite  of  God. 


203 


VISIONED  LOVELINESS. 

Farewell,  thou  Spirit  of  the  Light, 
Thou  unseen  gleam  of  Loveliness, 
I  with  mankind  in  grief  must  roam, 
Thou  rule  in  bliss,  tho'  loveliness, 
Whence,  havened  in  thy  woeless  home, 
Thy  gleams  may  pierce  earth's  sorrowed 

night 
And  lead  some  godlike  soul  to  rise, 
And  sing  to  man  from  thy  pure  skies. 


Yet,  can  we  part? — tho'  for  the  gloom 
I  leave  these  brightest  hills  and  vales 
Where   blushless  Wealth   in   thy  fierce 

gleam, 
Like  night  before  the  dawning,  pales; 
And  where  the  rayless  ages  seem 
To  pall  in  grief  man's  self-made  doom; 
Where  Kings  of  craven  Greed  for  thrones 
Man's   scorn   shall  have, — no   more  his 

groans. 


204 


For  thou  art  Doom,  Great  Soul  of  Love ; 
Thy  spirit,  glad  in  bodeful  might, 
Speaks  thro'  the  voiceful,  perfect  day, 
Sings  in  the  dreamful,  starry  night. 
These  hills,  rocks,  trees, — all  fade  away, 
Charred  wastes  the  pathless  stars  shall 

roll; 
Yet,  failless  Spirit  of  the  Spheres, 
Thy  beauty,  rainbowed  in  the  years, 

Shall  glow  to  light  Man's  cheerless  way 
To  perfect  love.    But,  rapture  rare 
Thy  vision  were  to  man's  seared  eyes, 
Like  gleams  of  some  lost,  wildered  star 
That  chains  him  in  thy  mysteries. 
Who  thy  unimaged  form  survey, 
With  love  imbreathed,  devote  their  life 
To  wage  with  woe  thy  endless  strife. 

Oh,  could  I  with  some  godlike  might 
The  fettered  souls  of  men  unbind, 
That  they  might  see  thee  throned  afar 
In  hueless  majesty,  enshrined 
In  fire  'mid  soulless  darks, — a  star 
To  rive  the  chilling  blacks  of  night, — 
Of  woeful  earth  a  rapturous  state 
In  Beauty's  stainless  light  create! 

205 


But  dastard  Custom's  carious  grime, 
Opinion,  fashion,  habit  vile, 
Of  ages  form  the  rankling  gyves 
Seared  fleshly  on  men's  souls, — beguile 
Their  eyes  with  glamour,  till  their  lives 
Fracid  with  self,  rot  in  their  prime, 
And  godlike  spirits  formed  for  joy, 
With  self -soul-streams  of  rapture  cloy. 

Self -fouled,  like  senseful  beasts  we  die, 
Except  thou,  with  thy  irised  light, 
Wilt  char  these  adamantine  chains 
And  merge  man's  soul,  begloomed  in  night, 
In  splendor.    Then  thy  dreary  fanes 
Throngs  love-adoring  glorify, 
And  empyrean  hymns  shall  rise 
To  mingle  with  thy  radiant  skies. — 

Too  wild,  wild  dream,  thy  rushing  flow 
Has  left  my  soul  a  serfless  sea 
With  joy  becalmed  and  imageless, 
Save  where  thy  gleam  of  majesty — 
A  quenchless  star,  when  beaconless 
The  ocean  of  the  soul,  with  woe — 
In  constant  glory  bodes  the  doom 
Of  souls  divine,  'mid  shrouding  gloom; 

206 


Reveals  the  path  where  surge  the  throngs 
To  certain,  nearing  joy, — to  thee, 
Great  Spirit,  that  with  waneless  pow'r 
Directs  the  world  to  ecstasy. 
Unpall  the  sightless  eyes ;  the  hour 
Of  life,  scorned,  visioned  souls  in  songs 
Invoke  with  voiceless  moans  inwove, 
Fulfill,  thou  Majesty  of  Love. 


207 


CHRISTMAS  THOUGHTS. 

To  K.  W. 

Thou  in  whose  life  an  angel-light, 
Sweet  like  the  star  of  Bethlehem, 
Had  hidden  as  some  lovely  gem, 
Until  its  rays  shone  on  my  soul, 
And,  though  enwreathed  in  blacks  of  night 
A  glory-bliss  the  death-glooms  stole, — 
Whose  soul  so  like  a  flow'r  divine 
Love's  tender  beam  doth  soft  enroll — 
Then,  love's  pure  joy  seem'd  ever 
mine — 


Thou  to  whose  soul  mine  own  was  bound 
Inseparable  as  the  sea 
From  its  enclosing  strands,  to  be 
My  angel-light,  my  guiding  star, 
My  life,  my  pow'r  whom  I  have  crown 'd 
My  Vestal  Queen,  so  pure,  so  dear, — 
So  holy  that  strange  fears  unknown, 
Like  shadows  my  life's  radiance  mar — 
That  you  might  leave  me  here  alone 

208 


And  glide  on  spirit-wings  away — 
A  flow'r,  a  gleam  of  light,  a  joy- 
Too  lovely  mid  earth's  harsh  alloy. 
Oh,  though  thou  art  so  cold,  so  far, 
I  feel  thee  near;  I  hear  thee  say: 

i '  Peace,  peace,  sad  heart.    Doth  not 

the  star 
Of  Hope,  though  darked  in  wreathing 
clouds, 
Somewhere    beam    thro'    thy   anguish 
drear 
And  light  thy  Desolation's  shrouds  ¥" 

Ah,  yes !    Despair  with  human  heart 
Dwell  ne'er  together  linked  in  life: 
One  reigns,  for  death  must  crown  their 
strife, 
If  Hope  ascend  not  to  her  throne. 
The  darks  and  mists  of  years  may  part 
The  struggling  heart  from  love's  own 

home, 
But   e'en  pain's   fire   and   sorrow's 
might, 
Consumed  in  every  pray'r  and  moan, 
Shall,   burning  fierce,   give  forth  a 
light 

20G 


Feebler  and  calmer  as  the  star 
Before  the  Dawn's  great  birth  of  love. 
My,  Own!    Oh  wilt  thou  feel  above 
The  anguished  heart — the  throes  of 
woe, 
God's  love  and  peace,  oft  unseen,  far, 
Still  anguish-soothing,  softly  flow? — 

This  Christmas-Tide,  so  desolate 
My  low-bow 'd  soul  that  griefs  o'er- 
flow, — 
How  must  I  wait  on  God — Oh,  wait ! 


May  He  who  comes  in  Birthmorn-cheer, 
In  gloried  light  His  Own  to  bless, 
Take  thy  sweet  heart,  thy  loveliness, 
Thy  angel-purity,  thy  face 
So  holy,  radiant,  so  dear — 

And  tho'  I  feel  not  thy  embrace, 
Thy  kiss  of  love's  deep,  pure  delight, 
Nor  see  thee,  hold  thee, — yet  His  Grace 
Supports  me,   guides  me   thro'   the 
night. 


210 


Ah  see !    Dawn  breaks.    His  star  is  flown, 
But  floods  of  glory's  light  burst  thro' 
The  cloud-rolls,  lusters  soft  imbue. 
His  day  of  Love  gleams  bright  and 
calm 
He  whispers :    i  i  Still !  thou  woeful  moan. 
Be  soothed,  thou  anguish 'd  wounds, 

with  balm 
Of  Hope,  of  Faith,  of  Trust  com- 
plete/' 
Oh !  Darling,  list  I   Dost  hear  the  psalm 
The  angel-choirs  sing,  at  His  feet? 


O,  Thou  whose  love  had  bid  me  live, 
Whose  angel-life  and  angel-love 
So  pure,  so  fervent,  from  Above, 
FilPd  life  with  Heav'n's  felicity,— 
Oh,  know — that  He  doth  chast'ning  give 
To  His  dear  ones,  with  purity 
That    souls    less    deep    have    never 
known. 
Oh,  hear !    He  takes  thy  love  from  me 
To  give  made  Holy,  O,  My  Own ! 


211 


ODE  ON  HUMILIATION. 

Thou  Pow'r  unseen,  thou  nameless  Might, 

Thy  majesty  doth  silent  rear 
An  august  reign  of  mystic  night 

Where   those   unfathomed  souls   of 
men, — 
The  good,  the  great,  shall  feel  no  fear 
Descending  from  some  triumph  height 
And  buried  in  thy  dread  domain. 
There  bitter  loss  and  rankling  pain 
Shall  train  their  kingly  hearts  to  hear 
Thy  trancing  words'  divine  refrain : 

Thou  far  Sublimity  unknown 

'Mid  this  low-thronging  human  dearth, 
Where  eyes  with  gloating  blinded  grown 
With  golden  glitter  vain,  do  leer 
Their  coarse  desires  o'er  all  the  earth, — 
Not  they  upon  that  tear-built  throne 
Of  titled  scorn  and  wealth  austere 
Whose  praise  they  form  from  hu- 
man sighs, 
From  pang  and  pain  their  cruel  mirth 
Shall  mount  to  thy  far  spirit-skies. 

212 


Thou  reachless  Depth,  that  soul  alone 
That  shone  with  mighty  love's  pure 
glow, 
As  high  as  thrills  the  magic  tone 

Of  Heaven's  harmonies,  as  wide 
As    floods    the    noon's    swift,    golden 
flow: — 
The  love  that  lists  each  human  moan, 
As  pure  and  sweet  as  swells  the  tide 
Of    God's    own    soul    o'er    human 
grief- 
Alone  may  reach  thy  depths  below 

When  he  has  trod  the  heights  of  life. 

That  soul  that  thro'  the  haunted  years 
Of  spectral  joys  and  woes  that  move 
O'er  ragged  paths  'twixt  bliss  and  fears, 
At  last  shall  gain  that  lonely  height. 
O'er  all  the  tribes  of  men,  his  love, 
In  one  sweet  flood  of  yearning  tears, 

Can  pour  its  boundless  streams  of 
might. 
Ay,  who  those  spirit  ways  has  trod 
Alone  is  great  and  mounts  above 

The  deathful  world,  and  with  his 
God, 

213 


Alone  may  leave  this  glory-sphere, 

And  o'er  sky- wastes  of  dreamless  night, 
Thro'  worlds  of  pain  and  darks  of  care — 
And  days  of  heavenly  despair, 
May  reach  thy  realms.    No  ray  of  light 
Reveals  the  soundless  depths  of  fear 
Where  dauntless  hearts  alone  must 
dare 
To  enter.   But  the  jagged  way, 
O  'er  crag  and  cliff,  thro '  cold  and  blight, 
Winds  thro'  grief's  demon- world 
astray. 


Thou  deep,  black  gulf  of  living  death, 
Asurge  with  darks  of  ghostly  night, 
Thy  sorrows'  silent-heaving  breath 

Scarce  stirs  the  pall-floods  of  despair 
That  die,  and  die, — yet  strive  to  blight 
In  quenchless  waves  the  calms  of  faith, 
Those  flushings  pale  of  dreams  once 
fair, 
Those  sparks  of  memory,  divine 
That  in  the  thraldom  of  thy  might, 
Thou  Dreadless  King,  shall  shine 
and  shine. 

214 


Thou  ordeal  of  the  reignless  soul, 

Thou  terror  of  the  triumph  curse, 
Thou  art  my  guide  to  yon  sky-goal, 

From  whence  in  this  dark,  depthless 
vale 
Vast  floods  of  woe  the  soul  immerse, 
Descending  where  night-surges  roll ; 

Down  past  the  throng  whose  sightless 
wail 
Or  mocking  joy  doth  speak  the 
doom 
Of  self -sunk  lives'  inferior  course 

That  sluggish  taints  earth's  com- 
mon gloom. 

Now  to  yon  height,  brave  heart,  above ! 

For  thou  hast  trod  the  realm  of  pain ; 
And  rising  spotless  thou  shalt  move 
A  soul  exalted  thro'  life's  ills. 
Nor  pause  till  thou  that  sky-throne  gain 
Whose  kingless  majesty  of  love 

Enshrined  in  stainless  glory,  thrills, 
With  beauteous  light  the  earth  for- 
lorn, 
And,  with  its  splendor  floods  again 
The  flush  of  Love's  awaking  morn. 

215 


To  the 

SERAPH-SOUL. 

Thou  mystic  Beauty,  phantomed  Loveli- 
ness, 
Thou  visioned  grace  of  Seraph-Soul  su- 
preme, 
Whose  visitings  are  fleeting 
As  pale  joy's  wooed  greeting, 
Whose  wildered  flight  is  swifter  than  the 
gleam 
Of  lightning's  flash  o'er  midnight's  face, 
Whose  form  i$  fairer  than  the  grace 
Of  passion's  purest  dream: 

Thou  Unknown  Spirit,  from  thy  realm 
above, 
With  breathings  that  transfuse  our  hu- 
man state, 
Still  silently  incline  us 
To  thy  One  Love's  divineness 
As  broad  as  flows  the  soul-streams  of  the 
Great, — 
As  soft  as  yearns  the  poet's  love, 
And  fairer  than  his  dreams  that  move 
Like  angels  round  his  fate. 

216 


Thou  holy  Sympathy  that  broad  and  free 
Wilt  shed  thy  balm  with  life's  far-lin- 
g'ring  dawn, 
Like  Heaven's  flood-lights  glowing, 
O'er  midnight's  glooming  flowing, 
O  'er  this  low  sphere  of  mingled  song  and 


moan, — 


Oh,  list  my  love-hymns'  ecstasy 
That  wooes  thy  mystic  Majesty 
To  rear  thy  Triumph- Throne. 


217 


THE  SEASONS'  IMPRESSIONS. 

Thou  rustling  wind  among  the  withered 
leaves, 
A  sorrowed  dirge  thou  singest  of  the 
year 
Slow  waning  to  its  death.    Rude  frost  be- 
reaves 
The  autumn  gold  of  splendor,  and  the 
clouds 
Somber  with  mocking  light,  proclaim 
the  drear 
Dead  spell  that  life  in  cruel  triumph 
shrouds, 
And  wakes  the  heart  to  worship — or  to 
fear. 


Bleak,  cheerless  Winter!    All  the  Sum- 
mer's song 
Is  hushed  as  if  forever.    Gk>ne  the  flow- 
ers, 

The  warmth,  the  color  and  the  teeming 
throng 

218 


Of  life  in  earth  and  air — lost  in  thy 
gloom ; 
And  mem'ry  of  the  summer's  lavish 
powers 
Is  mingled  with  the  bitter  sense  of 
doom — 
The  killing  snows  where  once  the  living 
showers. 


And  yet,  there  is  a  marvel  in  thy  might, 

A  wonder  in  thy  dazzling  mystery, 
A  worship  in  thy  solemn  glory  white 

So  pure  that  e'en  the  skies  pale  in  its 
glow. 
Oh,  I  could  love  thee  for  thy  majesty — 
The  spotless  splendor  of  thy  robe  of 
snow 
Thy  mountain  ice-crown's  gleaming  chas- 
tity, 


219 


Thine  is  the  pow'r  of  infinite  repose — 

The  destiny  of  stern  and  moveless  rest ; 
And  yet,  immortal  hopes  our  souls  com- 
pose 
With  dreams  of   Summer  and  her 
flow'ry  train. 
Day  follows  night;  and  through  Law's 
edict  blest, 
Thy  icy  throne  shall  melt  to  Spring 
again — 
Strange  omen  of  life's  triumph  manifest. 


For  him  who  lives  in  plenteous  content, 
Whom  fortune  blesses  with  abundant 
store, 
Sweet  solace  are  these  visions  eloquent — 
These  paling  dreams  of  God's  recur- 
ring law. 
But  how  shall  these  vain  thoughts  or 
empty  lore 
Of  deathless  life  or  Winter's  magic 
awe 
Assuage  the  thousand  cravings  of  the 
poor? 

220 


How  shall  the  millions,  whom  chill  Win- 
ter rude 
Condemns  to  want  and  hunger,  cold  and 
pain, 
Find  warmth  and  plenty  in  the  barren 
food 
Of  beauty  or  religion  ? — What  to  him 
The  robes  of  snow,  the  mountains  ice- 
bound chain, 
The  crystal  brilliance,  but  a  monster 
grim — 
To  peace  a  mock'ry  and  to  joy  a  bane  ! 

Oh,    that   the   full   import   of   Nature's 
mood — 
The  reign  of  rigorous  Winter,  or  the 
rare 
Voluptuous  kiss  of  Summer's  plentitude — 
Might  be  to  thee,  my  brother,  as  to 
me! 
Our  souls  relieved  of  rankling  want  and 
care 
Would  thrill  like  harps  with  life's  di- 
vinity, 
Would  rise  like  Christ  above  life's  vast  de- 
spair. 

221 


FOUND  AT  DAWN. 
To  Mr.  J.  G.  P. 

Far  in  the  autumn's  twilight  thrall 
Where  sombrous  glooms  their  pinions 
furled 
O'er    surging    floods    of    languored 
night, 
The  airless  vapors  wrap  their  pall 

About  the  pining  day  whose  flight 
Stirs  faint  the  dank  gloam-floods  that  roll 
O'er  trembling  earth  their  chilly  blight 
And  still  in  pain  the  sullen  world. 

Deep  in  the  gloom  of  mountain-wilds 
The  scragged  rocks'  grim  giant-forms 
Thrust  black  their  massy,  cragged 
crowns 
Where  ghastly  Demon-Night  beguiles 
The   phantom-shades   to   pall   their 
frowns 
In  death.    With  murk  the  depthless  vales 
Night's  sluggish  bale-flood  sightless 
drowns, 
And     silence    breathes    in    surgeless 

storms. 

222 


Dark  in  these  pathless  wilds  my  soul 
All  wildered  in  its  maze  of  doom 

Groped  thro'  the  hushed  blackness 
lost 
'Mid  formless  thoughts  that  mocking  roll 
Their  demon-dreamings,  frantic  host. 
A  gleam  that  thro'  the  rock-clefts  stole 
Passed   o'er   my   startled   sense, — a 
ghost 
Devoured  in  Hope's  unfathomed  tomb. 


The  feverous  glooms  that  sombre  wreathed 
Their  flushes  pale  as  love  and  joy, 
Like  dreams  of  hope,  their  shades  en- 
tomb 
Where  deep  despair  in  anguish  breathed. 
The  floods  of  blackness  thick  inhume 
The   fainting   gleams   where  night-palls 
seethed, — 
Like  hope  and  faith  that  in  life's  doom 
The  ebbing  tides  of  fear  destroy. 


223 


In  wild  dismay  I  wandered  lost. 
But  like  the  warmth  of  flushing  dawn 
That    breathes    o'er    pallid,    night- 
chilled  blooms, — 
Or  star,  to  seaman  tempest-tossed, 

That   constant   brightens   thro'   the 
glooms, 
A  hushed  strain  subdued  but  vast 

As  mighty  love  intoned  thro'  dooms, 
Throbbed  o'er  my  moanless  senses  wan. 


And,  gloating  thro '  the  shrouds  of  night, 
My  wild  eyes,  by  that  voice  so  dear 
Allured,  the  sullen  gloam  descried 
That  ghastly  shrouded  yon  dim  height. 
Thro'  ragged  wilds  of  rocks  black- 
dyed 
My  senseless  feet  thro'  doubtful  light 
Toiled  up  where  feeble  glows  flushed 
wide 
And  paled  the  fainting  night  with  fear. 


224 


A  hand  with  sorrowed  love  aglow 

My   strength    sustained,    and   to   that 
height 
Still  led  me  on.    That  voice  so  dear 
That  angels  listened  to  its  flow 

Breathed  o'er  my  languid  sense  its 
cheer 
Like  dew  on  dying  flow'rs ;  when,  lo, 

The   timid   Dawn   her   dream-gauze 
mere 
Cast  off,  and  blushed  in  glowing  light. 


Her  gloried  path-floods  glowed  and  shone 
Thro'  craggy  clefts  whose  gold  did 
gleam 
To  melting  margins  where  she  trod 
'Mid  thronging  spirit-forms  o'erflown 
With    crimson    splendor's    dazzling 
flood. 
Amid  that  phantom-troop  of  dawn, 

Whose  wings  with  ecstasies  of  God 
Soft  flushed  in  radiance  supreme, 


226 


That  joy  transformed,  my  raptured  eyes 
Beheld,  to  Heaven's  deathless  light, 
That  in  the  night-floods  of  despair 
I  lost  in  that  vast  vale  of  sighs. 

Here  shrined  in  hues  divinely  fair, 
It  found  its  haven  in  the  skies. 

But  hark !    That  music  of  the  air, 
That  swells  its  harmony's  delight, 


Throbs  thro'  the  flood  of  splendor  thrilled 
To  God's  great  Love-throne  trembling 
borne ; 
And  from  its  spirit-symphonies 
A  wondrous  strain  my  sorrow  filled ; 

For  there  'mid  Heaven's  rhapsodies 
That  love-hymn  once  so  sadly  stilled 
In  woe,  awoke  its  ecstasies 
Divine  in  love's  own  glory-morn. 


226 


WITHOUT  THEE. 

So  far  from  thee,  the  depth  of  gloom 
That  fold  on  fold  about  me  lies, 
Seems  blacker  still  with  mingled  light, 
Like  dreams  of  joy  enshrined  in  doom: 
For   Mem'ry   shows   with   flashings 

bright 
Those  blisses  vivid  sunk  in  night, — 
The  darkened  walls  of  life  that  rise — 


My  weird  uncertain  prison  sad. 
As  sinks  the  trembling  trav'ler  lone, 
Deep-buried  in  night's  murky  thrall, 
'Neath  raging  storm  with  fury  mad, 

And  sees  the  crashing  trees  downfall 
And  splintered  rocks,  and  in  the  pall 
Of  lightning's  flash,  the  ruin  prone, 


And  after-blackness  feels  more  dread : 
So  flashing  with  eternal  might, 
These   mem'ry-gleams    of   passion's 
pain, 
That  mad,  soul-thrilling  dream  now  fled, 
Flame  through  the  night  of  woeful 

bane 
And  cast  me  in  its  depths  again. 
My  grieving  soul,  to  see  the  blight 


Spread  o'er  those  hov'ring  dreams  above, 
Must  burst!     'Tis  vain,  sad  heart,  to 
yearn 
And  strive  in  wild,  distracted  dream 
To  clasp  her  form,  to  die  in  love, 

Or  faint,  o'ercome  with  bliss  supreme, 
And  dream  that  life  and  pain  but 
seem: 
For  she  is  gone, — ne'er  to  return. 


God  gave  thy  love :  but  ah,  the  woe, 
That  night  when  strayed  I  wild  and 
lone, 
That  tore  my  anguished  heart  and 
thine, 
And  life  lay  crushed  in  poisoned  throe ! 
Shall  I  at  last  to  grief  resign  ! 
Come,    dearest,    steep    thy    soul   in 


mine, — 


Here  rest  in  love,  My  Own,  My  Own ! 


THE  TEAR. 

Soft  as  an  angel 's  stolen  breath, 

Hush  as  a  moanless  dream  of  peace 
To  the  fevered  brain  aswoon  in  death ; 
Or  the  breathless  dawn  that  blushes 

still; 

In  the  sobf  ul  gloam  thy  tear  athrill 

With  sweet  love-light  that  'lumes  thy 

face, 

The  vibrant  night  o'erflushed  until 

It  glowed  with  sorrow's  tend 'rest  grace. 


Calm  as  the  star-beam  burns  thro'  night, 

Swift  as  the  dawning  leaps  on  high, 
As  the  hush  of  music's  pulsing  flight 
O'er  a  tranced  woe  in  dreams  en- 
thralled, 
To  my  wildered  heart  in  grief  em- 
palled, 
So  swift  the  light  and  tear-song  fly ; 
And  quiv'ring  o'er  my  soul-chords, 
hold 
My  grief  entranced  in  harmony. 

230 


YOUTH'S  VISION. 
To  D. 

As  bursts  some  scene  of  beauty  bright, 

Of  autumn  shades  and  hues, 
Lit  by  the  day's  last  gleam  of  light 
Whose  splendor  softly  blends  with  night 
Where  fall  the  early  dews, — 


Upon  the  wond'ring  gaze  of  one 

Who  thoughtless  oft  had  passed,- 
Departing  now  when  day  was  done, 
He  viewed  the  scene  at  setting  sun, 
Its  glories  fading  fast, — 


Or  as  a  flower  perfect,  rare, 

Apart  unnoticed  stood, 
Divine  in  structure,  wondrous  fair, 
Aglow  with  Heaven's  flushes  dear, 

Charming  the  solitude, — 


231 


When,  fostered  'neath  love's  sunny  dew, 

Its  odor-breathing  bloom 
Outrivaled  all  in  blended  hue, 
The  sweetest  flow'r  that  ever  grew 

With  cheer  to  light  the  gloom : 


So  she,  a  radiant  vision  sent, 

A  dream  of  rapture  pure, 
For  moments  lent  of  sweet  content, 
To  grace  the  gloom,  the  day  o'erspent, 

And  life  to  love  allure, 


Shone  sudden  on  my  startled  sight, — 

A  creature  from  above. 
Youth's  evening  glories'  flushing  light 
Eevealed  a  soul  divinely  bright 

And  won  my  silent  love. 


From  eyes  unf athomed  the  soul-might 

Of  passion  pure  outshines : 
My  tranced  soul  in  dark  delight 
Lifes  faint  and  still,  in  bonds  the  night 
Of  love's  long  grief  entwines. 

232 


NATURE'S  DIVINITY. 
I  wandered  to-day  far  from  tumult  and 
sorrow 
To  Nature's  deep  shrine  where  the 
strange  solitude, 
Like  the  ambient  air,  floated  round  me, 
to  borrow 
That  sympathy  mystic,  life's  e'er- 
failing  food ; 
Where  souls  freed  from  earth-bonds  to 

Heaven  can  rise, 
And  men  become  gods  spirit-throned  in  the 
skies. 

I  sought  a  lone  bower  where  dews  of  the 
morning 
Lay  sparkling  half -hidden  in  manifold 
shade, 

Where  sunlight  scarce  darted  thro'  ver- 
dure, adorning 
With  orbed-gold  lustre  the  green  of  the 
glade ; 

Where  redolent  airs  breathe  in  soft, 
voiceless  might 

And  mingle  with  flow 'rets  their  vernal 
delight. 

233 


In  dew-refreshed  morn  soft  the  silence 
stole  o'er  me — 
All  soundless  the  world,  save  the  mur- 
muring brook, 
Whose  mild-gurgling  echoes  attractive 
allure  me, 
Vain  striving  its  secret  to  find  in  each 
nook 
Where  it  ripples  in  sunbeams  or  flows  still 

and  darkling 
Thro'  shadowed  rock-caverns  with  glint- 
ing and  sparkling. 


Such  silence  is  blessed.    Its  soul-fining 
spirit, 
Unknown  to  man,  mingles,  'neath  har- 
mony's law, 

With  the  few  tranced  minds  who  forever 
endear  it 
With  strange  adoration  the  spirit  doth 
draw 

From  worlds  of  dull  substance  to  realms 
of  mere  joy 

Where  never  man's  thraldom  and  strife 
the  soul  cloy. 

234 


Oh,  might  divine  ardor  of  Nature's  pure 
passion 
Illume  the  soul's  prison  of  dense,  mucid 
gloom, 

Where  man  chained  with  self-love  or 
custom's  oppression 
Sits  peaceful  nor  murmurs  tho'  Greed 
speaks  his  doom 

With  a  vile  curse  of  misery,  hunger,  dis- 
tress. 

To  trammels  of  toiling  grief,  groans, 
wretchedness. 


Oh,  light  the  gloamed  minds  with  thy 

beauteous  vision, 
The  void  of  man's  prison,  O  Spirit 

illume, 
Till  Hope  and  Love  roused,  our  yearnings 

elysian 
Shall  rise  to  divineness  of  joy ;  and  life's 

gloom, 
In  radiance  pure  of  Desire's  creant  might 
Shall  glow  in  joy's  dawning  with  love's 

stainless  light. 


235 


DEJECTION. 

ToD. 

So  cold  is  life,  so  weird  and  dark, 
To  me  a  dream  unending  seems, — 
A  flash  of  light,  a  dying  spark 
That  vividly  upon  the  sight, 
Like  love,  a  fleeting  moment  gleams 
Then  vanishes  and  pales  with  fright ; 
But  shows,  with  evanescent  beams, 
Of  things  the  murky,  thickened  gloom, 
Which  have  no  being  yet  appear 
As  sounds  and  shapes  in  visions'  flight, 
And  dim  impress  life's  loftier  doom 
Upon  the  senses  dulled  in  night 
That  e'er  receive  with  awful  fear 
The  dreaded  spirit-sound  or  sight, — 
Then  lapse  to  sleep  from  lifeless  strife 
To  be  awaked  at  love's  dark  cheer. 
To  some  in  doomed,  luckless  plight, 
So  weird,  it  seemeth  more  like  death, — 
A  rending  strife  'twixt  dark  and  light. 
So  dreaming,  seeming,  thro'  our  life 
We  pass  along,  and  think  and  dream 

236 


Of  joy  and  grief,— a  throned  Strife, 

That  e'er  against  our  senses  dull, 

Drawn  from  her  skyey-hidden  sheath 

Doth  hurl  with  sudden  pow'r  supreme 

Some  atom  of  the  infinite  plan 

Evolved  from  the  Almighty's  breath: 

We  start  up  from  our  listless  plight, — 

But  dreamy  sink,  while  senses  lull 

The  soul  with  sights  and  sounds, — the  bane 

Of  spirit-joys  that  hopeless  wane. 

In  stormy  passion's  raging  flight 

The  mem'ry-scorged  soul  would  rove, — 

A  winged  love  that  thro'  the  night 

Exhausted  beats  its  pinions  vain 

In  gloaming  tempest's  hurling  winds. 

Its  tireful,  maddened  throbbings  cease 

In  senseless,  endless  strife, — no  peace : 

But  fluttering  ever  in  its  pain 

It  seeks  with  storm  to  rise  again. 

So  is  the  soul.    Its  spirit-love 

No  rest  from  wild 'ring  passion  finds, 

But  crushed  in  life's  reality, 

Earth-crazed,  it  seeks  some  reachless  rest : 

Like  autumn  leaves  that  in  the  swirl 

Of  swelling  streamlets  writhe  and  whirl ; 

A  helmless  phanton-ship  wild-tossed, 

237 


Forsaken  on  ocean's  raging  breast; 
Beaten  and  torn  on  the  seething  sea 
Of  wild 'ring,  black  mortality; 
Wild-driv'n  thro'  the  welt 'ring  wave 
By  some  soul-strife  of  darted  love, — 
Until  the  deep,  Eternity 
Receives  it,  welcome  with  its  own, — 
Our  sightless  doom,  our  viewless  Throne. 


238 


MELANCHOLY. 

Thou  deep,  dark  world  of  throbbing  grief, 
Thou  Pow'rl    Chained  in  thy  dismal 

thrall, 
My  human  soul  doth  writhe  and  strain 
To  reach  yon  mocking  beam  of  light. 
Still  struggle.    Rend  thyself  in  vain. 
Oh,  that  thy  anguish  crushed  belief, — 
Thy  arrowed  pain  so  dense  in  pall 
Enwrapped  thee, — so  intense  the  blight 
No  human  sense  could  feel  life's  bane! 


Engulf  me  deeper  in  thy  might, 
Till  mind,  consumed  in  thy  fierce  bane, 
Is  freed  from  strife  of  life  and  death, 
Of  joy  and  grief.    As  when  a  cloud, 
Blackened  with  night,  whirls  in  the 

breath 
Of  Tempest-king,  in  dark  delight, 
Till  lightning's  flash  like  writhing  pain 
Shivers  and  rives  its  sphered  shroud- 
So  rends  my  soul  its  fear  and  faith. 

230 


LONELINESS. 

ToD. 

Oh,  that  thy  silence  endless,  sad 
To  my  lone  soul  that  else  were  glad, 
Should  break  o'er  realms  of  loneliness 
So  black  and  void  whose  cheerlessness 
Is  seen  and  felt,  as  harsh  or  faint 
Some  sight  or  sound  or  feeling  taint 
Of  silence  black  the  dismal  reign, 
Like  fevered  roarings  of  the  brain, 
And  make  the  blackness  more  intense, — 
A  silence  striking  rude  the  sense ! 
As  Orphean  music  burst  the  pall 
Of  Night  and  Hell,  enchanting  thrall 
Of  gods  and  doom,  so  would  thy  voice 
Make  sadness,  fate  itself  rejoice 
And  soulless  Nature  'mid  life's  gloom 
Start  up  in  welcome  from  joy's  tomb. 
As  one  benighted  in  the  wilds 
Who  strives  with  fear  till  sleep  beguiles 
His  straining  eyes,  when,  awed  in  dreams 
He  starts  up  cheered  in  morn's  broad 
beams, — 

240 


Or  as  the  heavens  cease  their  fast 
And  on  parched  verdure  with 'ring  cast 
Shed  copious  draughts  of  thermal  pow'r 
And  save  the  marcid,  languished  flow'r, — 
As  tears,  quick-flowing,  hearts  relieve 
That  suffered  grief  but  could  not  grieve, 
So  burst  the  blackness  thro'  the  years 
Impalled  with  nameless  spectral  fears 
That  haunt  the  burdened  creeping  hours 
Like  doubt  that  hope  and  faith  devours. 
Oh,  speak  I    Thy  voice,  tho'  far,  to  me 
Were  as  the  harbor-bells  at  sea 
To  hopeless  bark  wild-tempest  driv'n, 
The  doom  of  wrathful  earth  and  Heav'n. 
Oh,  speak  I    Thou  art  as  cold  and  far 
As  joy,  or  yon  dim-quav'ring  star 
That  'mid  earth-mists  that  palling  low'r 
Flames  paly  gleams  night's  shrouds 

devour. — 
So  fade  my  visions  in  love's  pall, 
Save  'neath  the  gleam  of  mem'ry's  thrall 
That  pain  and  sorrow  vivify 
And  feed  like  wreathing  darks  that  vie 
About  the  soul's  dim  flames  that  shine 
Thro'  glooms  that  haunt  my  Dream 

Divine. 

241 


THE  LAST  DAWN. 

Slow  creeping  from  bemisted  clouds 

Dark  shadows  lowered  from  the  pall 
Of  dying  day  whose  settling  shrouds 
Entombed  the  forsaken  east. 
In  moanful  threnodies  the  gust 
Drives  hoarse  the  plashing  rains  that 
fall 
Thro*  moveless  vapors'  torpid  rest. 


Amid  the  city's  ragings  dire 

Whose  rabid  pulses  teemed  with  men 
Half -maddened  by  their  fierce  desire 

And  ruthless  greed,  there  wandered 

lone 
A  weary  wight  so  heedless  grown 
Of  rushing  life,  he  felt  no  pain 
Of  spurning  blows  or  taunting  tone 


242 


Of  jeer  and  curse.    His  feet  astray, 

Infirm  with  years  of  struggling  grief. 
Scarce  bore  him  thro*  the  jostling  fray. 
His  darkened  brain  unconscious 

teems 
With  ebb  and  surge,  like  fitful 
dreams, 
Till  sense  is  lost  in  wild  belief, — 
Then  starts  in  life's  consuming 
gleams. 


So,  lost  in  mystic  worlds,  he  swerves 
O'er  scoffing  streets.    The  rankling 
strife 
Of  chills  that  quiver  o'er  his  nerves 
Convulsive  strikes  his  deadened 

brain. 
Long  has  he  borne  the  anguished 
bane, — 
The  slow  disease  of  feverous  life ; 
Long  felt  gaunt  Hunger's  gnawin 
pain, 


243 


The  tortures  of  earth's  countless  ills, 

The  palsied  pangs  of  maddening  cold, 
That  rived  the  writhing  nerves  with  thrills 
Of  stupor  strange  the  senses  stirred. 
No  smile  he  knew,  no  tender  word. 
No  love  of  wife  or  child  enfold 
His  restless  head.    No  song  he  heard 


Of  warmth  and  home.    No  tear  was  shed 

For  him  amid  the  heartless  throng ; 
And  human  sympathy  was  dead, 

And  human  smiles  were  stoned  in 

greed. 
In  night  his  forlorn  heart  would 
bleed, — 
To  silence  lisp  his  moanful  song, 
And  desolation  be  his  meed. 


244 


Men  puffed  with  fulsome  luxury 

And  swollen  blind  with  glutton-greed, 
Him  whom  Jehovah  made  to  be 

A  king  on  earth,  "a  beast"  they  style, 
1 'Who  fed  on  refuse,  sweepings  vile, 
And  lived  in  musty  rags,  whose  bed 
Was  some  ash-heap  or  garbage  pile." 


What  mockery  of  human  life ! 

What  shameless  guilt  of  haggish  crime ! 
What  feculence  of  human  strife 

That  rots  thy  carious,  fleshy  feasts 
With  putrid  self!    The  groveling 
beasts 
Could  tutor  man  entoiled  in  grime 
Of  flesh  the  soul  in  fetters  casts. 


245 


The  weird  night  passed.    The  torrent 
streams 
Poured  cold  and  ruthless  as  the  dawn, 
Thro'  haze  gray-tinged  with  sulking 
beams. 
The  whiffling  winds  in  sobf  ul  chill 
Moaned  o'er  a  nerveless  form  and 
still, 
A  love-lumed  brow  with  suffering  wan, 
A  throbless  heart  beyond  life's  ill. 


No  voice  for  him  doth  raise  its  wail, 

No  silent  tear  embittered  fall; 
And  o'er  that  brow  in  slumber  pale 

Scorn's  heedless  minions  breathe  no 

sigh. 
The  soughing  winds  shall  moan  and 
die; 
The  surging  mists  shall  form  his  pall, 
And  rain-drops  chant  their  monody. 


246 


No  requiem  hymn,  ye  mortal  choirs : 
Your  mocking  songs  but  breathe  your 
doom. 
But  hearken  to  those  heav'nly  lyres 

That  waft  to  bliss  the  souls  ye  spurn. 
Their  pains  of  earth  that  skyward 
yearn 
And  darks  of  grief,  doth  Heav'n  illume 
To  radiant  joys  of  waking  morn. 


Ye  glutton-hordes,  Oh,  wail  and  weep, 

For  woe  shall  mock  your  pleasures  rife. 
The  cank'ring  gold  ye  gloating  keep 

Is  forged  to  rankling  gyves  that  burn 
The  writhing  soul.    O  mortals, 
mourn, 
And  chant  your  dirge  of  human  strife, 
That  surges  souls  to  death's  black 
bourn! 


247 


OCTOBER. 

How  drear  gray  Morn  in  misty  clouds 
Ascends  her  throne,  like  one  who  grieves 
For  some  lost  glory,  and  whose  tears 
Her  lustrous  eyes  veil  in  dull  shrouds 
Of  darkling  grief!    How  still  the  leaves, 
Scarce  quiv'ring  in  the  sobful  breath 
Of  fainting  Summer  whose  love-fears 
Have  dulled  her  panting  heart's  still 

bliss, — 
Soft,  lovely  bride  who  swoons  to  death 
'Neath  Autumn's  chilly  marriage-kiss! 


The  day  in  deep-veiled  sorrow  frowns, 
And  Nature  mourns  her  fairest 's  death 
In  moanful  voices  love-subdued. 
The  poison-air  no  more  resounds 
With  gleesome  song;  his  blighting  breath 
Has  made  of  Summer's  bridal  dress 
A  shriveled  mantle  sombre-hued, 
Where  lonely,  hollow  winds  bewail 
The  vanished  light  and  loveliness, — 
Like  memory  when  passions  fail. 

248 


I  too  am  mourning  thro'  the  night 
Of  foregone  joy, — of  beauty  lost. 
My  fevered  heart,  like  Summer,  wed 
To  wildered,  pulsing  love's  delight, — 
An  eagle  in  storm-rage  fierce-tossed 
In  lofty  joyance, — felt  no  fear 
Of  after-calm,  so  drear  and  dead; 
But  strives  in  vain  for  visioned  skies, 
And  pining  at  its  doomed  bier, 
Kissed  by  love's  Autumn  sorrow, — dies. 


249 


THE  LONELY  SONGSTER. 

Lone  creature  of  the  silent  forest-ways, 
How  sadly  dost  thou  linger  here  forlorn ! 

Summer  is  gone,  and  tuneful  sunny  days 
Have  spent  their  splendor — all  their 
joys  outworn. 


Thy  mate  has  vanished  to  a  warmer  realm, 
As  mine  has  left  me  for  some  gayer 
sphere, 
Here  where  the  autumn  mists  thy  songs 
o'erwhelm, 
As  mine  are  stifled  with  misfortunes 
drear. 


Thy  plumage  once  so  gorgeous  in  the  fire 
Of  flashing  sunbeams  now  is  dulled  and 
gray, 
Like  youth  that  riseth  thrilled  with  high 
desire 
And  sinketh  wan  and  weary  with  the 
day. 

260 


Thou  shouldst  not  mope  and  droop  in  vain 
despair — 
Thou  hast  thy  pinions ;  and  beyond  the 
cold 
Of  dismal  winter,  in  some  Eden  fair 
Of  summer  south-lands  there  is  bliss 
untold. 


Oh,  hasten  thither;  leave  our  bleak 
domain, 
As  I  must  quit  this  vain  and  empty 
strife ; 
And  when  the  next  glad  springtime  comes 
again 
Return  in  robes  renewed  with  gorgeous 
life. 

Sweet  May  will  come  once  more  with  all 
her  blooms, 
The  sun  will  smile  again  with  warmth 
and  cheer, 
The  sky  will  tint  her  clouds  with  hued 
illumes, 
And  thou  and  I  will  bless  the  gracious 
year. 

251 


And  thou  shalt  sing  thy  rapturous  refrain, 
With  swelling  heart  a-quiver  all  with 

joy, 
That  sunshine  and  the  flow'rs  have  come 
again, 
With  nests  and  food  and  love  without 
alloy. 


I,  too,  will  sing  in  some  wild  ecstasy 
To  soulful  Beauty  all  my  lonely  strain, 

That  man  shall  yet  as  happy  be  as  thee — 
In  Universal  Love's  triumphant  reign. 


252 


PRELUDE. 

Go  to  my  love  and  bid  her  arise 
To  worship  with  me  in  radiant  skies : 
With  a  whisper  of  passion, 

A  love-lorn  refrain, 
That  fancy  doth  fashion 
From  rapture  and  pain. 


Go  to  the  world  and  bid  it  to  hear 
A  sky-failing  tone  of  music's  despair 
With  a  hymn  to  the  duty 

Of  life  and  desire, 
The  strange  spirit-beauty 
My  soul  doth  inspire. 


258 


INTERLUDE. 

Like  daylight  sweet  to  wilder ed  dream. 

Like  silence  after  melody, 
Like  solemn  night  that  soothes  the  gleam 

Of  sun's  too-dazzling  brilliancy — 
So  dost  thou  come,  fair  magic  blest, 
Enticing  with  some  fleeting  rest. 


Like  calm  that  follows  mighty  storm, 
Like  peace  o'er  passion's  thrilling  woes, 

Like  sleep  that  lulls,  with  tender  charm, 
The  day's  long  joyance  to  repose — 

So  soothing  spell,  with  tranquil  art, 

Enchant  to  rest  my  wearied  heart. 


254 


POSTLUDE. 

A  flash  of  light  through  clouds  of  night, 
A  voice  from  silence  golden, 

A  waning  scent  from  flowers  spent 
By  dying  airs  enf  olden : 


A  thought  of  joy  in  grief's  alloy, 

A  radiant  vision  failing, 
A  triumph-strain  low-hushed  in  pain 

A  dream  of  passion  paling: 


Oh,  feeble  hymn,  oh,  beauty  dim, 
Oh,  tender  strain  love-sighing, 

Inspire  some  heart  with  heav'nly  art 
To  live  whilst  thou  art  dying. 


255 


REDEEMED 


FOREWORD. 

In  the  wonderful  life  of  Jesus  Christ, 
with  its  vital  grasp  of  all  human  states 
and  interests,  the  themes  of  eternal  truth 
in  thought  and  action,  are  almost  infinite. 
The  greatest  of  all  is  Love.  Another  is 
self-sacrifice.  A  third  is  the  false  exulta- 
tion of  wealth;  and  a  fourth,  the  final 
blessedness  of  humility. 

With  such  considerations  this  Story- 
Poem  deals ;  but  all  conceptions  ultimately 
blend  in  human  and  divine  affection,  which 
alone  produces  earthly  happiness. 

The  salvation  of  the  meek  is  thus  the 
dominant  chord  of  our  humble  symphony. 
This  regeneration  arises  in  lowly  affec- 
tion, proceeds  through  suffering  and  sac- 
rifice, and  reaches  its  perfection  in  uni- 
versal love — broadened,  exalted,  glorified 
by  divine  favor  or  miraculous  reward. 

The  reader's  indulgence  must  be 
granted  in  permitting  fanciful  deviations 
from  the  meagre  historic  narrative  of 
Christ's  life.     Our  justification  is  that 

259 


this  poem  does  not  consist  of  the  facts 
of  human  history,  but  of  the  illustrations 
of  divine  truth. 

That  truth  reveals  the  utter  folly  and 
futility  of  the  raging  conflict  now  involv- 
ing every  human  interest.  The  hopeless 
opposition  of  contending  classes  is  shown 
to  be  a  weak  and  absurd  fallacy.  The  rich 
need  not  revel  in  luxury,  nor  the  poor 
suffer  in  want — conditions  equal  in  social 
disaster. 

We  must  bring  these  discordant  ele- 
ments to  peace,  unity,  sympathy.  Our 
salvation  from  the  consuming  curse  is  pos- 
sible only  through  the  power  of  boundless 
charity,  that  turns  this  baneful  strife  to 
joyous  brotherhood,  with  universal  bless- 
ing. 

In  that  marvelous  world  of  the  Christ- 
Love,  all  human  contentions  blend  in  one 
ideal  state  of  spirit-beauty.  Here  pride 
is  debased,  humility  exalted,  suffering 
recompensed  and  sacrifice  rewarded,  in 
the  vast  harmony  of  that  universal  law — 
"The  Infinite  Love  of  God." 

Benjamin  P.  Fisher. 

260 


IMMORTAL  LOVE. 

Immortal  Love,  celestial  birth, 
God's  richest  gift  to  human  life, 

Enthrone  thy  triumph-reign  on  earth 
Abandoned  to  its  selfish  strife. 

Like  sunlight-floods  pour  o'er  our  hearts 

The  thrill  divine  thy  grace  imparts. 


Immortal  Christ,  thou  soul  of  Love, 
Thou  slave  divine  of  earthly  poor, 

Descend  again  from  bliss  above, 
Commanding  us  to  love  once  more. 

Thy  deathless  spirit  still  inspire 

Our  hearts  with  passion's  radiant  fire! 


Immortal  Beauty,  whose  design 
From  God's  own  being  took  its  form 

With  secret  pow'r  our  souls  refine 
To  grasp  the  meaning  of  thy  charm — 

To  find  revealed  in  every  mood 

The  essence  both  of  Love,  and  God. 


Immortal  Spirit,  thou  whose  grace 
Has  given  world  and  law  and  life, 

How  dare  we  come  before  Thy  face 
With  stains  and  wounds  of  mortal 
strife  I 

How  shall  we  live  below,  above, 

Without  thee,  wondrous  Human  Love? 


262 


A  new  commandment 

I  give  unto  you, 

That  ye  love  one  another. 


REDEEMED 

Dark    wreathed    the    night    of    heathen 

thought  about 
The  struggling  twilight  of  a  holier  morn ; 
And  mighty,  yearning  souls  sought  God 

in  vain, 
With  reason  darkened  in  a  maze  of  doubt. 
Then  rose  a  soul  of  heav'nly  essence  born 
The  one  revealing  force  of  God  to  man, — 
A  flash  of  Light,  a  thrill  of  beauteous  Pain 
That  trembled  o'er  the  heart  of  Love  for- 
lorn, 
And  bade  it  rise  with  radiance  divine 
In  triumph  o'er  the  universe  to  reign. 

He  wandered  lonely  as  a  poet's  dream 
'Mid  wildered  ways,  'mid  smiles  and  tears 

of  man. 
He  sought  in  gloom  the  poor,  the  blind  and 

lone; 
In  hovels  dark  where  ne'er  had  shone  the 

gleam 
Of  love  and  joy,  He  raised  the  forehead 

wan, 

265 


The  pale,  drooped  eyes  He  lit  with  hope's 
bright  cheer. 

Grief  changed  to  joy,  to  song  the  wretch's 
moan. 

The  humble  pining  low  'neath  misery's 
ban 

He  praised  exalted ;  wealth  and  pride  au- 
stere 

Condemned  debased.  Of  Love  He  reared 
His  throne. 


When  evening's  shadows  cold  and  silent 

creep, 
Like  phantoms  weird,  o'er  gloried  earth 

and  sky, 
And   black-veiled   night   with   stains   of 

deep 'ning  gloom 
Doth  mingle  mystic  charms  of  hush  and 

sleep, — 
Lo,  Jesus,  listless  of  the  darkness  nigh, 
Lingers  alone,  lost  in  some  hidden  maze 
Of  sorrowed  love  for  man  in  his  self -doom, 
Nor  feels  the  gath'ring  night  and  chill,  His 

eye 

266 


Cast  pensive  down,  like  one  whose  fixed 

gaze 
Strives  vain  to  pierce  the  mystery  of  the 

tomb. 


The  settling  darkness  roused  His  languid 

sense : 
Benighted,  shelterless,  He  paused  in 

doubt. 
Along  the  highway  hedged  with  sombre 

walls, 
A  mass  of  solid  masonry  immense 
Shone  gray  'mid  darker  verdure  wreathed 

about, 
As  if  to  shield  secure  from  human  sight 
The  wide  domain  and  chambered  palace- 
halls 
In  foliage  hid,  whose  domes  and  spires 

reached  out 
Like    dusking    shades    thrust    skyward 

through  the  night. 
The  taper's  brilliance  through  the  lattice 

falls, 

267 


And  barred  glim 'rings  o'er  the  broad  way 
creep, 

Soon  lost  among  the  hov'ring  shades  of 
night. 

A-chill  with  dank  night  dews,  the  wand'rer 
worn, 

Amazed  stood,  as  one  from  some  deep 
sleep 

Arouses  dazed  in  bursting  sun  floods 
bright. 

His  haloed  face  some  strange  soul-fires  il- 
lume, 

Some  passion  radiant  of  love  grief -born. 

That  floods  the  circling  darks  with  spirit 
light, 

And  blushes  through  the  shrouds  of  strug- 
gling gloom. 

Thus  Jesus  stands,  in  wealth's  delight  for- 
lorn. 

"Here  will  I  knock  and  shelter  ask,"  said 

He; 
"The  night  is  chill  and  dark,  but  what  glad 

cheer 
Doth  reign  within  where  weary  pilgrims 

there 

268 


May  find  a  haven  warm  nor  burden  be 
To  one  whom  God  hath  blessed  from  year 

to  year." 
So  fell  those  words  that  soft  as  summer's 

breath 
Flushed  tenderly  along  the  quiv'ring  air, 
Like  fainting  dreams  of  spirit  music  near, 
Or  some  soul-harmony,  serene  in  death, 
That  skyward  rises  free  from  life's  de- 
spair. 

He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men;  A  man  of 
sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief:  and  we 
hid  as  it  were  our  faces  from  Him. 

A  raucous  voice  harsh-pinched  with 
crabbed  greed 

The  Pilgrim's  wishes  asked  in  tones  se- 
vere, 

"Who  gloats  in  wonder  o'er  my  rich  do- 
main?" 

Christ,  meek  in  holy  grandeur,  told  his 
need, 

In  words  soft  breathed  that  Nature 
stooped  to  hear : 

That  Night,  all  tone  and  motion  ceasing, 
hushed, 

260 


Dumb  with  despair  and  grief  that  rose 

again 
From  Christ's  heart  wounded:  in  His  eye 

a  tear 
Of  holy  suffering  stood,  with  glory  flushed 
From  some  diviner  world  of  spirit-pain. 


This  kindness  asked,  the  rich  man  cast  his 

leer, 
Half  turned  in  scorn,  the  wand 'ring  God 

to  greet. 
His  piercing  glance,  like  blight  on  autumn 

flow'rs, 
Or  bane  to  happy  love  consumed  with  fear, 
Scowls  mocking  from   Christ's   face  to 

weary  feet : 
And  crafty  in  deceit  he  quick  conceived 
The  vagrant  to  be  wretched  poor,  and 

low'rs 
Upon  his  garments  stained  in  dust  and 

heat 
And  rent  with  nameless  works  in  tears 

achieved 
And  mighty  love,  divine  with  God-lent 

pow'rs. 

270 


"My  rooms  are  full  of  gold  and  treasure 

vast: 
I  harbor  not  vile  thieves  among  my  store !" 
His  hoarse  voice  grated  with  the  gate's 

harsh  grind 
That  scourged  the  writhing  air  with  scath- 

f ul  blast. 
As  passed  he,  smiling  at  its  sullen  roar, 
The  light-flood  broad  that  through  the  por- 
tal flowed 
An  instant  lingered,  like  a  surging  wind 
That  in  a  summer-midnight  flushes  o'er, 
With  timid  breath,  the  sleeping  solitude, — 
Then  leaves  the  heavy  night  sunk  dull  and 
blind. 


With  tender  pity  lofty  as  the  skies, 

The  pilgrim  started  on  His  lightless  way. 

The  vapored  night  breathed  blight  from 

day's  dark  tomb, 
So  dense  He  scarce  the  black-hedged  way 

descries. 
The  hidden  stones  His  shoeless  feet  astray 
With  every  halting  step  bruised  cruelly. 


His  great  soul-passion  thrilled  the  doleful 

gloom, 
Who  cared  not  save  the  Spirit  to  obey- 
That  e'er  impelled  through  ceaseless 

agony 
To  death's  great  sorrow, — last  and  glori- 
ous doom. 


At  length,  a  faint  ray  cleaves  the  darkness 

cold, 
And  glimmers  feebly  through  the  wreath- 
ing pall, 
To  guide  Him  fait 'ring  to  the  hidden  goal. 
Yet  can  He  not  the  shelter  dark  behold, 
Now  swallowed  by  the  shades  that  darker 

fall, 
So  sank  His  hope,  while  doubts  and  fears 

arose 
To  thrall  in  waste  despair  the  struggling 

soul. 
Yet,  faint  and  worn,  He  still  with  fresh 

avail 
Fares  onward  where  the  taper  tranquil 

glows, 

272 


A  distant  star  where  night-mists  veiling 
roll. 

Abide  with  us:  for  it  is  towards  evening,  and 
the  day  is  far  spent.  And  He  went  in  to 
tarry  with  them. 


Scarce  can  He  labor  to  the  little  door 
Up-looming  in  the  walls'  more  sombre 

gray, 
O'ershimmered  by  the  flaring  flame  that 

shone 
And  nightly  through  the  lattice-chinks  did 

pour 
Barred  light-streams  pale  to  guide  the 

wand'rer's  way. 
It  was  a  lowly  cot  of  aged  poor, 
Where  two  for  many  years  had  dwelt 

alone. 
The  dust-stained  pilgrim,  wearied  with  the 

day, 
Did  ne'er  in  vain  a  shelter  warm  implore. 
Tis  said  they  loved  all  life  more  than 

their  own. 

273 


Ere  He  to  knock  His  nerveless  hand  could 
raise, 

The  door  swung  wide :  outburst  a  flood  of 
cheer, 

Of  warmth  and  joy,  alarming  the  dull 
night 

That  fled  encircling  far,  like  misted  maze 

At  early  dawn,  and  wreathed  about  in  fear. 

Now  glowed  the  realm  with  tender  radi- 
ance, 

Where  Christ  aweary,  dazzled  in  the  light, 

Stood  speechless,  while  a  love-rewarding 
tear 

Flushed  that  sweet  face  with  soulful  elo- 
quence 

That  thrilled  along  the  still-awed  air  of 
night. 


With  voices  love-subdued  the  aged  pair 
Poured  forth  a  wealth  of  soul-breathed 

welcome  free: 
"The  night  is  cold  and  dark;  thy  weary 

feet 
Can  journey  now  no  further;  enter  here, 
And  rest  thy  tired  limbs,  and  solaced  be. 

274 


Our  store,  though  slight,  is  all  at  thy  com- 
mand, 

For  God  doth  give  our  daily  warmth  and 
meat, 

And  what  He  hath  vouchsafed,  we  give  to 
thee." 

Not  waiting  for  reply,  His  fevered  hand 

They,  leading,  clasp, — their  happiness 
complete. 


As  one  who,  in  the  meshes  of  some  dream, 
Toils  fainting,  o'er  a  wild  and  pathless 

way, 
And  feels  fatigue's  slow  pang  and  cold  de- 
spair 
Stifle  with  blighting  pain  the  thought's 

dull  stream, 
While  hope  and  fear  impel  his  feet  astray 
And  drive  him  on  o'er  hills  and  wastes 

forlorn, 
O'er  rocks  and  streams  and  wretched  des- 
erts drear, 
Till  he,  at  last,  resigned  to  dire  dismay, 
Starts,  trembling  in  the  calm  of  home  and 
morn, — 

275 


So,  Christ  consoled,  his  grief  reposed  in 
cheer. 

For  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat: 
I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink :  I  was  a 
stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in. 


The  matron  old,  with  anxious,  willing 
hand, 

A  plenty  took  from  their  scant  fund  and 
poor 

Of  meal  coarse-ground  but  fresh  and  sav- 
ory sweet, 

And  mixed  with  water  lucid,  pure,  ob- 
tained 

From  welling  spring  the  fathers  built  of 
yore. 

Prom  stocks  and  branches  dry,  in  waning 
days 

Slow  gathered,  'neath  the  summer's  burn- 
ing heat, 

All  withered  from  the  mountain's  meagre 
store, 

She  made  a  transient  fire  whose  sparkling 
blaze 

Tted-flared  amid  the  dancing  shadows  fteet. 

276 


Some  locusts  sweet  with  loaves  of  barley 

meal, 
Some  wild  figs  dried, — the  last  of  their 

supply,— 
With  fish  preserved  in  oil  of  olives  sweet 
Composed  the  fare.    But  no  want  could 

dispel 
The  loveful  joy  that  from  some  spirit-sky 
Reflected  in  their  faces'  glorious  light. 
As  when  one  travels  lone  with  weary  feet 
Where  passing  summer  with  her  sobful 

sigh 
Leads  o'er  the  glowing  earth  the  north 

wind 's  blight 
With  sudden  gusts  of  chilling  rain  and 

sleet, — 


When  bursts,  triumphant  from  the  cloud- 
bound  sphere, 

The  sun,  aglow  with  radiant  smiles  of  love 

More  splendid  in  the  scattering  vapor's 
flight, 

And  fills  the  wanderer  with  gracious 
cheer, — 

So  shone  Christ's  brow  with  radiance  from 

817 


above. 
As  when  the  ardent,  panting  thought  and 

dream 
Reach  out  soul-yearning  for  far  love's  de- 

light 

Which  sudden  thrills  the  heart,  with  fears 

inwove, 
Till  life  and  joy  and  pain  false  visions 

seem, 
So  seemed  the  transport  of  that  raptured 

night. 


When  all  had  taken  of  the  glad  repast, 
And  pale  the  Pilgrim  leaned  in  ember's 

glow,— 
As  in  some  maze  of  soul,  too  vast  and  deep 
For  human  thought,  He  strayed  entoiled 

and  lost, — 
The    happy    pair,    with    eager    words 

breathed  low, 
Conspired  to  bless  with  cheer  and  sweet 

content. 
And  when  with  viewless  wings  soft-flitting 

Sleep 

278 


'Mid  lurking  glooms  and  shadows  dark- 

'ning  slow, 
Doth  charm  to  magic  rest  the  spirits  faint, 
And  soothing  languors  o'er  the  senses 

creep, 


They  gently  lead  Him,  'mid  remonstrance 

vain 
Soft-hushed  in  breathed  words  of  sooth- 
ing love, 
To  where,  in  deep'ning  gloam,  the  lowly 

cot 
Gray-tinged   stood   in  fire-light's   pallid 

wane: 
Then  creep,  all  noiseless,  to  the  low  alcove 
Adjoining  'neath  whose  arches  plastered 

gray, 
To  scanty  store  of  grain  and  fruit  devote, 
They  lie  upon  the  scattered  straw,  nor 

move, 
Nor  sink  in  dull  repose,  but  watch  and 

pray, 
Perplexed  in  fevered  maze  of  wild 'ring 

thought. 

279 


Day  burst  at  length  in  stainless  splendor 

vast. 
In  such  gold  floods  the  sunlight  ne'er  has 

flown, 
Save  at  the  dawn  of  Eesurrection  near 
That  through  slow  time  its  irised  light  now 

cast 
To  greet  a  Glory  brigther  than  its  own. 
In  joy  that  mem7ry  cherished  ever  bright 
The  scant  repast  was  eaten  in  love's  cheer. 
The  Lord  inspired  with  strength  anew, 

there  shone 
A  glowing  halo  of  strange  spirit-light, 
And  crowned  the  brow  that  bloody  thorns 

should  tear. 


Still  ling 'ring  on  the  threshold  ere  they 

part, 
Like  winged  bliss  that  quivers  o'er  the 

soul, 
That  voice  that  bade  the  thund'rous  waves 

be  still 
Now  thrills  with  pulsing  joy  the  list'ning 

heart, — 
And  o'er  all  nature  breathes  a  spirit-thrall. 

280 


He  softly  bids  His  hosts  but  speak  a 
prayer, 

Which,  ere  the  words  be  formed,  He 
should  fulfill 

Though  they  like  gods  should  wish  the 
sun's  control. 

They  knew  not  what  to  ask,  their  sole  de- 
sire 

To  feel  of  self-denial  the  raptured  thrill, 


And  constant  peace  deep  as  the  blue  of 
heav'n, — 

A  hidden  stream  that  never  wane  had 
known. 

So  great  their  meed  of  peace  and  happi- 
ness 

They  knew  no  wish  that  heaven  had  not 
giv'n. 

But  soft  as  glow  of  soul-desire  there  shone 

A  gleam  of  hope  that  flushed  with  early 
joy 

The  aged  woman's  brow:  the  wan  distress 

Of  Pilgrims  wretched  wand 'ring  cold  and 
lone 

281 


Oft  did  with  grief  their  loving  hearts  an- 
noy 

That  house  and  store  too  scanty  were  to 
bless. 


Christ  felt  the  wish  and  happy,  went  His 
way. 

With  wild,  delightful  madness  softly 
seized 

They  sank  into  a  strange,  entrancing 
dream. 

Unseen  and  mighty  gleamed  the  broad  '- 
ning  day. 

How  long  they  stood  with  joyous  frenzy 
dazed, 

And  what  weird  visions  strange  of  bliss 
and  light 

Delirious  whirled  them  down  wild  fancy's 
stream, 

They  knew  not.  Long  they  lingered  all- 
amazed 

With  myriad  thoughts  and  hopes  and 
mem'ries  bright 

Of  long-forgotten  years,  where  joys  su- 
preme 

282 


In  early  love  and  youth's  delight  had 

shone. 
Again  the  warm  life  tingled  in  each  vein ; 
The  dimmed  eyes  sparkled  with  a  glory 

mild, 
Like  autumn's  lustre  faint  when  day  has 

flown. 
The  wrinkled  brow  with  rapture  flushed 

again 
As  morn's  sweet  face  when  winter  dark 

has  fled : 
The  languid  form  of  age  was  soft  beguiled 
To  grace  and  beauty.     As  with  ne'er  a 

stain 
O'er  gilded  clouds  the  dawning 's  glories 

spread, 
Youth's  new-born  radiance  glowed  unde- 

filed. 

His  flesh  shall  be  fresher  than  a  child's:  he 
shall  return  to  the  days  of  his  youth. 

As  when  in  Autumn's  sobful  breath  the 

leaves, 
In  wild,  fierce  joyance  rise  in  mazy  whirls, 
Wildered  in   frenzied  glee,  like  spirits 

freed 

283 


From  some  far  realm  whence  new  bliss 
aimless  drives ; 

Or  as  the  lark,  in  panting  transport,  hurls 

Through  lure  of  startled  dawn  its  pas- 
sioned flight, 

Whose  gushing  raptures  ne'er  the  wild 
winds  heed, 

Maddened  with  joy,  bewildered  in  the 
swirls 

Of  misted  sun-fire, — so,  in  weird  delight 

Of  ravished  sense,  did  age  in  glad  youth 
fade. 


The  mem'ry  of  the  life  just  passed  away 

Was  like  some  distant,  half-forgotten 
dream 

Confused  in  waking  thought.  They  knew 
their  guest 

Had  backward  turned,  with  some  God- 
given  sway, 

The  ebbing  course  of  life's  receding 
stream. 

They  questioned  not,  but  knew  their  youth 
restored 

To  cheer  the  needy  with  their  service  blest ; 

284 


To  feed  the  hungry ;  fill  with  hope  supreme 
The  friendless,  joyless  souls  whom  Christ 

adored, 
And  thrill  earth's  suffering  life  with  love 

and  rest. 


From  mingled  thoughts'  and  dreams' 
strange  ecstasy 

They  turned  upon  the  threshold  to  their 
cot, 

And  found  it  vanished,  where  there  sud- 
den rose, 

From  out  a  sphere  of  rainbowed  radiancy, 

A  mansion  such  as  man  has  never  wrought. 

Its  august  grandeur  tow 'red  in  simple 
state, 

Where  nauseous  luxury's  disgusting 
shows 

And  coarse  displays  with  pompous  trum- 
pery fraught, 

Degraded  not  its  matchless  grace  elate 

With  strength's  supreme  and  infinite  re- 
pose. 

285 


The  walls,  with  casements  op'ning  high 

and  wide, 
Of  gray  basalt  green-tinged  and  polished 

clear, 
Were  graced  with  pilasters  of  lustrous 

white, 
Of  marble  brought  o'er  the  Aegean  tide. 
The  gorgeous  capitals  from  Corinth  far 
Upheld  a  jutting     frieze  whose  flowing 

stream 
Of  sculptured  thought,  whose  very  glooms 

were  bright, 
Inspired  the  gazing  soul  with  love  and 

cheer: 
'Twas  like  an  artist's  wild,  soul-fashioned 

dream, — 
A  wondrous  realm  of  beauty  and  delight. 

And  He  built  His  sanctuary  like  high  palaces, 
like  the  earth  which  He  hath  established  for- 
ever. 


Fair  porticoes,  God-wrought,  of  Grecian 

mold 
Their  tap 'ring  columns  upreared  to  the 

sky, 

286 


Where  morn's  and  even's  sun  on  east  and 

west 
Could  pour  in  flushing  floods  its  glorious 

gold. 
The  shafts  in  massive  strength  that  could 

defy 
Or  awe  in  wonder  the  fell  storms  of  time, 
From   far   Aegina's   blue-robed   mounts 

cloud-fleeced, 
Of  amber  veined  marble,  tow 'ring  high, 
Their  Doric  capitals  upheld  sublime 
Like  clouds  upon  some  ice-robed  mountain 

crest. 


Their  every  fluting  seemed  a  still  delight 
And  every  line  a  sweet,  mute  melody. 
The  pediments  by  spirit  sculptors  formed 
Were  throned  aloft  in  glowing  grace  and 

light. 
Each  living  form  of  radiant  majesty, 
Or  plastic  carven  scene  of  bliss  and  woe 
Were  chosen  from  His  gloried  life  trans- 
formed 

287 


Who  thrilled  the  world  with  new-born  ec- 
stasy. 

In  morning's  blush  or  twilight's  tremu- 
lous glow 

Their  splendor  pure  the  dazzled  vision 
charmed. 


The  spacious  rooms  in  simple  majesty, 
With  some  strange  power  of  mighty  love 

athrill, 
Were  perfect  realms  of  tender  rest  and 

cheer. 
The  lights  intone  some  deep  soul  harmony, 
And  all  the  air  its  raptured  meanings  fill 
With  mystic  pow'r;  they  on  the  scroll  of 

life 
Carve  deep  that  Law  of  Love  in  import 

clear 
That  he  who  heard  could  ne'er  escape  their 

spell ; 
In  weal  or  woe,  in  happiness  or  grief, 
That  hymn  of  World-Wide  Passion  sound- 
ed near. 

288 


He  will  make  her  wilderness  like  Eden,  and 
her  desert  like  the  garden  of  the  Lord;  joy 
and  gladness  shall  be  found  therein,  thanks- 
giving and  the  voice  of  melody. 

About  the  ample  court  in  deep-cast  shade, 

Embow'red  from  summer's  burning  noon- 
day heat, 

In  copious  verdure  'mid  the  rich-hid 
glooms, 

The  purple  grape,  where  denser  darks  per- 
vade, 

Hung  lush  and  cool,  round-swool'n  with 
juicy  sweet. 

Here,  'neath  the  quiv'ring  leaves  serene 
alcove, 

Inclasping  gloam  and  light  in  faint  il- 
lumes, 

Reposed  the  toiling  wand'rer's  glad  re- 
treat. 

Fair  bow'rs,  soft-screened  from  dazzling 
noon,  inwove 

Their  mazy  courses  massed  with  fragrant 
blooms, 

Enthralling  solitude  and  rest  serene. 
Fair  gardens   with   the   rainbow's  hues 
aglow, 


A-teem  with  deathless  flowers'  faint  per- 
fumes, 

Suffused  with  radiant  tints  the  sombrous 
green. 

Soft- wild 'ring  paths  'neath  still  trees 
arching  low 

Wound  o'er  the  mossy  knoll  or  tangled 
dell, 

Where  spreading  ferns  obscure  the  peep- 
ing blooms 

Soft-blushing  in  the  air's  carressing  flow; 

Or  through  the  gardens  where  hued  glows 
dispel 

With  magic  power  the  lurking  twilight 
glooms, 


Their  labyrinths  ran,  disclosing  e'er  un- 
seen 

Delights  that  lure  the  mind  from  languor's 
thrall. 

In  rocky  dells  deep-flowered  and  dark-en- 
mossed 

Soft-spraying  founts  their  rippling  glad 
refrain 

290 


In  rock-nooks  darkning  sang  to  birds'  low 

call. 
The  fig  tree  wild,  luxuriant  hung  its  bell 
Just  tinged  with  sunlight,  'mid  its  leaves 

embossed. 
The  orange,  golden  in  its  lustrous  swell, 
Its  various  hues  in  dark  green  doth  im- 
pale 
Of  waxed  leaves  with  glancing  sunlight 
glossed. 


The  teeming  olive's  placid  branches  lie 
Low-drooped  with  fracid  fruit  in  violet 

wane, 
'Mid  fields  of  grain  and  fallows  cool  and 

hush 
Where  gushed  and  thrilled  the  lark's  wild 

rhapsody. 
Such  halcyon  peace  and  joy  on  earth  ne'er 

reign, 
As  o'er  this  wide  domain  love-consecrate. 
The  sun-scorched  pilgrim,  at  day's  paling 

blush, 

291 


Hastened  his  eager  steps  the  haven  to 

gain; 
And  here  the  outcast  poor,  in  bliss  elate, 
Their  souls  in  ever-f ountful  love  refresh. 


No  dearth  was  there,  no  want  or  rankling 

care, 
Save  that  still  pain  for  mankind's  deep 

distress, 
Dispelled  with  every  glow  of  happiness 
That  flushed  o'er  some  heart  rescued  from 

despair,— 
Such  grief  as  saddened  e'er  Christ's  glor- 
ied face. 
The  fruitage  full  and  harvests  copious 

grown 
Now  heaped  the  granaries  vast  with  rich 

excess. 
Those  bow'rs  of  amaranth,  in  sweetest 

grace, 
Bloomed  ever  fair ;  and  pure  as  youth  and 

dawn, 

That  fadeless  Eden  glowed  with  loveli- 
ness. 


Your  riches  are  corrupted.  Your  gold  and 
silver  is  cankered;  and  the  rust  of  them  shall 
be  a  witness  against  you. 

Morn's  murky  flood  with  night  stains 
tainted  deep 

Crept  slowly  o'er  the  rich  man's  palace 
drear 

And  poured  its  sluggish  streams  o'er  dome 
and  wall. 

The  miser  rose  dull-browed  from  tortur- 
ing sleep, 

Trembling   with   nameless,    dream-imag- 
ined fear ; 

And  when  his  gloating  hands  in  wild  em- 
brace 

Fondled  his  bags  of  golden  treasure  full, 

The  plaguing  voices  of  that  dreamed  de- 
spair 

Yet  grided  o'er  his  heart  their  venomed 
curse  : 

"The  canker  of  your  gold  consumes  your 
soul." 


Soon,  with  amaze  that  turned  his  vulgar 
smile 

298 


To  low 'ring  frowns,  his  startled  neighbors 
told, 

In  eager  haste,  how,  wrapped  in  gloom  of 
morn, 

The  aged  poor,  their  lands  and  hovel  vile 

Had  vanished  like  a  mist,  where  now  the 
wold, 

Desert  and  wild,  had  changed  to  para- 
dise,— 

A  glad  domain  whose  vast  extent  adorn 

Pair  mansions  grand  of  some  strange  god- 
like mold, — 

Abode  sublime  of  two  whose  youthful 
grace 

Thrilled  with  delight  the  realm  so  long 
forlorn. 


With    curt    reproach    and    livid    envy's 

scowls 
They  further  told  'twas  noised  about  the 

land 
The  self-same  pilgrim  he  had  spurned  in 

scorn, 
With  warmth  and  cheer  and  meat  these 

abject  souls 

294 


Had  welcomed,  and  with  eager,  anxious 
hand 

Attended  every  want.   In  gratitude, 

Departing  when  night's  truant  shades  in 
morn 

Were  barred  with  gray,  he,  with  some 
viewless  wand 

Of  mystery  and  pow'r,  their  youth  re- 
newed 

And  their  mean  cot  to  mansions  vast  did 
turn. 


With  scoffing  mock'ry  did  the  rich  blas- 
pheme, 

And  ridicule  with  scorn  the  story  wild. 

But  while  he  scowled  with  taunting  jeer 
and  slur 

Upon  the  hast'ning  throng's  excited 
stream, 

The  wonder  dawned  upon  his  mind  de- 
filed 

With  cynic  disbelief  in  any  good 

That  unjust  fortune  brings  the  victimed 

poor: 

•jyr. 


Dawned,  like  the  doom  to  captive  soft-be- 
guiled 
With  dreams  of  joy,  until,  awakened  rude, 
He  feels  the  crushing  prison-walls  ob- 
scure, 

In  palls  of  gloom  his  dreamed  felicity. 
The  niggard  started  to  behold  the  crowds 
All  thronging  toward  the  west  in  morning 

pale. 
Doubt  strove  with  fear,  while  sullen  hope's 

faint  plea 
Sought  vain  to  wreathe  the  dawning  truth 

in  shrouds 
Of  unbelief.  The  narrow  forehead  burned ; 
The  moveless  heart  throbs  wild  as  fears 

prevail. 
He  rushes  out  as  though  a  thousand  goads 
Forth  drove  him,  as  his  grasping  senses 

yearned 
With  that  famed  wealth  his  void  soul  to 

regale. 


His  frightened  steed  he  mounts  in  sense- 
less haste, 

296 


And  mingles  with  the  throng ;  though  not 

as  they, 
Rejoicing  in  the  blessing  free-bestowed, 
But  with  the  bane  of  low  remorse  debased, 
And  morbid  with  the  pangs  of  dull  dismay. 
With  haughty,  mocking  mien  he  scowled 

in  ire 
Upon  the  hope-exalted  poor,  subdued 
In  wonderment  and  awe,  with  every  ray 
That  glinted  from  the  sun's  reflected  fire, 
And  o'er  the  radiant  mansion  flamed  and 

glowed 


Flushing  with  tranquil  cloud-like  splen- 
dor rare. 

But  soon  the  constant-goaded  steed  had 
passed 

The  fretted  boscage  of  the  garden's  bourn, 

And  reached  a  gentle  slope,  where,  con- 
toured clear 

Against  the  bright 'ning  west,  the  mansion 
vast 

Arose  and  spread  its  still  wings  flecked 
with  white 

297 


Far   'mid  the  haloed  hues  of  hov'ring 

morn. 
There  no  dank  walls  of  mucid  stone  o'er- 

cast 
Its  flow'ry  meadows,  with  their  sombrous 

blight. 
The  tranced  eye,  awe-charmed,  might  gaze 

and  yearn. 


As  one  demented  sees  some  vision  grand, 
And  gapes  in  mute  and  moveless  awe, — 

his  soul, 
"With  wonder  dumb,  a  chaos  void  of  strife, 
So  stares  and  gloats  this  man  of  wealth, 

his  mind 
A  senseless  void  where  want  and  mock'ry 

roll- 
Thoughtless  as  one  lost  in  eternity. 
Long  did  he  gaze,  like  one  bereft  of  life, 
To  sate  his  empty  greed  with  gorgings  full. 
At  length  the  pow'r  of  dark  reality 
O'ercame  his  stolid  mind  with  dull  doubts 

rife. 

298 


As  shimmers  faint  some  distant,  mist- 

paled  star 
So  hazed  and  dim  it  seems  a  flick 'ring 

charm 
Cast  o'er  the  quiv'ring  eye,  until  it  gleams 
Through  glory-parted  clouds,  lustrous  and 

far, 
So,  o'er  his  mind  enthralled  in  dire  alarm, 
Shone  silent  those  white  splendors  whose 

pure  light, 
Burning  across  his  soul  its  purging  beams, 
Disclosed  his  envious  greed  that,  like  a 

swarm 
Of  vipers,  grew  and  feasted  on  the  sight 
Of  riches  e'en  unvisioned  in  his  dreams. 


Like  one  whom  some  fierce,  strange  desire 

drives 
To  chase  o'er  earth  a  fleeting  vision  bright 
That  e'er  eludes  his  grasp,  so,  eager  fires 
Of  ruthless  craving  goad  him,  while  he 

strives 
To  vanish  doubt  that  leaves  its  searing 

blight 
In  face  distorted,  wild  and  straining  eyes. 

299 


His  heedless  sense  a  burning  hope  inspires 
To  overtake  the  pilgrim,  and,  despite 
His  heartless  scorn  of  yesternight,  obtain 
A  gift  to  fill  his  gluttonous  desires. 

The  rash,  blind  folly  of  his  quenchless 

greed 
Spurred  on  his  frothing  horse  in  headlong 

haste. 
His  few  friends  marking  the  dilated  eyes 
And  rashness,  greet  him,  but  he  gives  no 

heed, 
Save  to  the  pilgrim  his  strained  eyes  e'er 

traced 
Far- wand 'ring,  fancy-fashioned  to  a  god. 
Ever  anew  the  stinging  lash  he  plies ; 
Ever  his  ravenous  looks  he  frowning  cast 
Farther  and  farther  o'er  the  whit'ning 

road, 
Nor  to  his  shouted  questions  waits  replies. 

He  that  getteth  riches,  and  not  by  right,  shall 
leave  them  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  and  at 
his  end  shall  be  a  fool. 

When  noon's  high  glow  fused  white  the 
azure  pale 

300 


And  flooded  earth  with  trembling,  hueless 
gleams, 

He  found  the  wand'rer  'neath  an  olive- 
tree 

Whose  drooping  leaves  cast  o'er  the  hot- 
breathed  soil 

Its  waving  shade  checkered  with  orbed 
beams. 

Nor  lingers,  but  with  clutching  hand,  nigh 
crazed, 

And  rash  as  if  he  grasped  with  jealous 
glee 

His  sordid  gold,  he  wakes  from  troubled 
dreams 

The  wearied  Christ.    With  honeyed  words 
o'erglozed 

With  lavish  praise,  his  huge  avidity 


He  strives  to  hide;  and  tells  in  rasping 
tones, 

With  grieved  look,  how  he  e'er  helped  the 
poor, 

Supplied  their  wants  and  gave  them  shel- 
ter free : 

And  how  a  pilgrim,  in  the  night  just  flown, 

801 


He  had  admitted  to  his  bounty,  sure 
That  God  would  bless  the  deed ;  but  ere  the 

morn, 
With  all  his  treasure  stolen  secretly, 
Had  fled :  Christ  did  he  sorrowful  implore, 
With  cringing  tears,  to  bless  him,  so  for- 
lorn, 
That  he  might  ever  friend  to  friendless 
be. 


As  when  in  storm  the  raucous  thunder's 
roar 

Has  died  upon  the  frenzied  blast,  and  fair 

The  bursting  sunshine  soft  with  mists  in- 
wove 

The  sky  with  gloried  tints  bright-arches 
o'er, — 

So  died  those  griding  tones;  and  on  the 
air, 

Hush  with  the  quiv'ring  thrill  of  near  de- 
light, 

Like  rhapsody  soft-breathed  by  choirs 
above, 

The  voice  of  Jesus  hov'ring,  grants  the 
pray'r, 

302 


But  warns  the  man  that,  all  his  power  de- 
spite, 
Such  monstrous  craving  only  ill  can  prove. 


So  great  was  his  soul-ravishing  delight 
He  did  not  hear  those  words  and  warning 

tone, 
Nor  aught  did  heed,  save  that  wild  imaged 

dream 
That  swiftly  thronged  before  his  inward 

sight. 
Great  heaps  of  gold,  yellow  as  evening's 

sun 
As  high  and  vast  as  Heav'n's  infinity 
He  sees,  'mid  which  he  reigns  in  joy  su- 
preme, 
E  'er  grasping  all  about  his  regal  throne 
In  one  endless  embrace, — felicity 
To  his  joy-maddened  soul  dazed  in  the 
gleam 


Of  fiery,  wild  desire.    Without  adieus, 
He  turns  his  wearied  horse  toward  home 
again, 

803 


Confused  with  struggling  hope  and  fear 

lest  fate 
Should  somehow  rob  him  of  his  chance  to 

choose, 
Before  the  pow'r  God  gave  him  to  obtain 
Whate'er  he  asked,  should  sudden  pass 

away. 
His  mind  e'er  failed  his  glutton  greed  to 

sate 
With  visions  great  and  rich  as  heaven's 

domain. 
The  specters  of  Suspense  in  fierce  array 
With  faith  in  combat  raged, — a  horrid 

state 


In  which  his  soul,  fell-driven  to  dismay, 

Eaved  wildly  in  the  toils  of  sweet  despair. 

Then  Hydra-headed  Doubt,  with  demon- 
bane, 

That  searched  'mid  mocking  tortures  for 
its  prey, 

Devoured  apace  his  dreams  of  rapture 
fair, 

And  laughed  to  taunting  scorn  his  frantic 
ire. 

304 


Disputes  and  queries  racked  his  striving 
brain, 

Until,  with  joy  and  hope,  with  fear  and 
care 

And  strife  to  glut  the  monster  of  desire, 

His  shrivelled  mind  was  driven  nigh  in- 
sane. 

While  in  bewildered  plight  he  hurried  on, 
Scarce    knowing    where    his    thwarted 

thoughts  would  lead 
That    groped    'mid    massy    throngs    of 

wealth's  delight, 
A  starving  wight  approached  to  cringe 

and  fawn 
Beneath  his  horse's  hoofs, — to  gasp  and 

plead 
For  food  and  help,  in  tones  of  piteous 

grief 
That  Nature  trembled  at  the  woeful  sight. 
His    wife    and    child,    poor    victims    of 

wealth's  greed, 
Lay  helpless  'neath  fierce  hunger's  gnaw- 
ing strife ; 
And  he  alone,  though  fever's  conqu'ring 

blight 

306 


Consumed    his    struggling    pow'r,    still 

strove  to  save 
His  loved  ones  from  the  grasp  of  awful 

doom. 
Oh,  could  he  yet  withstand  that  groan  and 

tear, 
To  whom  the  Lord  such  wealth  and  power 

gave  ? — 
Oh,  could  he  see  them  borne  to  lowly 

tomb, — 
The  helpless   prey   of  hideous   vulture- 
lust, — 
And  not  within  his  murderous  heart  some 

fear 
Of  God's  own  judgment  feel  for  crimes, 

from  Whom 
His  pompous  might  and  wealth  he  held  in 

trust 
To  bless  the  poor  with  warmth  and  food 

and  cheer  ? 


Ah,  yes !    Though  soulful  Nature  with 

him  wept, 
Deaf,  heartless  wealth  could  only  scowl 

and  sneer. 

306 


The  rich  man's  impulse  was  to  whip  his 

steed 
On  past  the  prostrate  form  that  grov'ling 

crept 
And  grasped  the  stirrup  in  imploring  fear. 
But  venomed  guilt  and  dread  in  crushing 

surge, 
Lest  Christ  should  curse  to  naught  his 

promised  meed, 
O'ercame  his  sullen  soul;  the  dire  despair 
Of  sobful  tone  and  desperate  clutch  did 

urge 
His  frantic  sense  the  wretch's  pray'r  to 

heed. 


In  angry  haste  a  little  coin  he  seized 
And  scoffing,  threw  it  in  the  beggar's  face  : 
Then  turning,  urged  his  steed  with  threat 

and  lash, 
Nigh  frenzied  with  desire  he  vain  ap- 
peased 
With  dreams  that  failed  to  fill  his  mean 

embrace. 
But  sudden,  'mid  his  thought's  distracted 
course, 

307 


A  dark  suspicion  rose, — a  trembling  flash 
Of  doubt  and  dread.   His  dreams  of  golden 

grace 
In  horror  fled.     He  madly  clutched  his 

purse, — 
His  money  counted ;  then  with  curses  rash 


Bewailed  his  fate:  for  "in  his  pity  kind 
And  weak  compassion  he  had  thrown  away 
A  precious  piece  of  gold!     O  grievous 

fate, — 
O  weakness  mean  that  moved  his  mercy 

blind 
To  give  to  beggars I"    He  reviled  the  day 
That  brought  him  thither ;  and  his  ragings 

dire, 
Embittered  in  the  violence  of  hate 
'Gainst  God  and  man,  impelled  him  to  be- 
tray 
His  very  life,  for  in  his  senseless  ire 
He  cursed  himself  and  all  his  luckless 
state. 

308 


Scarce  had  the  bitter,  poisoned  words  been 

breathed 
Than  o'er  his  sense  weird  spells  of  mad- 
ness reign. 
As  some  fell  pow'r  of  long-endured  de- 
spair, 
With  hope  and  faith  in  raving  combat 

wreathed, 
Doth  surge  and  ebb  with  venom  in  its  bane : 
Or  like  impassioned  love  too  sudden  hurled 
Where   foul    suspicion's   subtle    demons 

fare 
In  blinded  rage,  until  the  anguished  brain 
Drifts  helpless  in  a  vast  chaotic  world 
Of  dismal  joy,  of  dark  and  frantic  care, — 


So  passed  the  tortured  soul  to  that  weird 

realm, 
Betrayed  by  self  to  vile  greed  dedicate. 
And  what  strange  visioned  dreams  and 

phantom-shades, 

And  what  revealing  mysteries  overwhelm 

The  spirit,  can  no  human  art  relate. 

But  when,  like  some  dread  charm,  doth 

pass  that  spell, 

soo 


Whose  host  of  sprites  and  fleeting  beings 
fades, 

His  mind  recovers  feebly  from  that 
state, — 

His  soul  is  rescued  from  that  writhing 
Hell, 

And  borne  to  life  on  wings  fair  sleep  out- 
spreads. 

When  he  awoke,  convulsed  with  doubt  and 
fear, 

Dazed  in  the  world  of  images  and  dreams, 

He  stared  with  startled  wonder  on  the 
scene, — 

The  strange  reality  devoid  and  drear 

That  mingled  'neath  the  daylight's  glar- 
ing gleams 

With  ghostly  mem'ries  of  the  fading  past. 

And  as  the  sun  burns  through  the  haze  of 
dawn, 

And  pours  o'er  misted  earth  its  golden 
streams, 

There  swept  with  lucid,  bright 'ning  flow 
at  last, 

The  flood  of  truth  swift  o  'er  his  vague  cha- 
grin. 

310 


4  desolation,  a  dry  land,  and  a  wilderness,  a 
land  wherein  no  man  dwellcth,  neither  doth 
any  son  of  man  pass  thereby. 

He  gazed  about  dismayed.    His  horse  was 

gone: 
Ah,  see  his  garments  rich  now  stained  and 

torn, 
And  in  his  eager  grasp  his  empty  purse ! 
A  thrill  of  pain  flushed  o'er  his  features 

wan. 
The  blow  had  fallen  o'er  his  hopes  forlorn. 
Of  riches  and  possessions  naught  was  left. 
Fulfilled  by  God  had  been  that  awful  curse 
Which  monstrous  greed  within  his  soul 

had  sworn. 
And  crushed  with  grief,  of  shattered  pride 

bereft, 
His  home  he  sought,  tortured  with  wild 

remorse. 


And  when  his  fait 'ring  steps  had  reached 

the  spot 
Where  once  his  stately  mansion  with  its 

halls, 

311 


Its  domes  and  tow'rs,  its  gardens  fair,  did 
rear 

Its  vain  magnificence,  existed  naught 

But  sterile,  stony  slopes  and  chasmy  walls, 

And  sun-burnt  steeps, — a  wilderness  of 
dread, 

Where  Death  and  Ruin  kept  their  reign 
severe 

In  wilds  accursed,  and  wreathed  their 
haunted  palls 

O'er  waste  and  void;  while  fiends  of  Hor- 
ror fed 

Hate's  demons  with  the  tortures  of  de- 
spair. 


The  people  gathered  'round  in  wond'ring 
throng, 

Awed  with  the  mighty  justice  of  their 
King, 

Could  not  but  praise  Him  for  that  recom- 
pense 

To  one  so  guilty  judged  of  crime  and 
wrong. 

And  e'er  that  great  commandment  warn- 
ing rang : 

312 


" For  Thou  Shalt  Love!"    Dimly,  as  in  a 

dream, 
The  guilty  saw  and  heard;  and  from  the 

glance 
Of  once-despised  serfs,  a  trembling  thing, 
Crushed  with  remorse  and  choked  with 

burning  shame, 
He  slunk  abased  in  utter  indigence. 

Incline  your  car  and  come  unto  me:  hear,  and 
your  soul  shall  live;  and  I  will  make  an 
everlasting  covenant  with  you. 

Unknown  and  scrip tless  o'er  the  stony 

road 
He  wandered,  sighing  in  the  bitterness 
Of  dire  remorse  and  wrath  against  his 

fate. 
While   ever   nigh,    conviction's   burning 

goad 
Impelled  his  soul  for  moments  to  confess 
His  horrid  guilt.    Yet  would  he  not  repent, 
Though   ever   o'er  his  mind's  confused 

state 
That  word,  whose  virtue  he  could  not  re- 
press, 
Whose  meaning  he  had  scorned  without 
lament, — 

313 


" For  thou  shalt  love," — pained  like  a  tor- 
ment sweet. 

Thus  on  he  aimless  fared  until  the  night 

Her  black  and  chilling  blight  spread  ruth- 
less o'er: 

Nor  did  he  rouse  from  that  distracted  state 

Until  the  radiance  o  'er  his  startled  sight 

Burst  forth  in  floods  from  out  that  haven 
fair 

Whose  portals,  opened  wide  upon  the 
gloom, 

Wreathed  out  their  haloed  gladness  con- 
secrate 

To  lead  the  wand'rer  welcome  to  its 
cheer, — 

That  mansion  blest  where  Heaven's  joys 
illume 

The  wondrous  realm  in  God's  own  love 
create. 

Athrill  in  softened  lustre's  tender  flow, 
Those  thronging,  sculptured  beauties,  an- 
gel-wrought, 
That  burned  with  tranquil  glory  through 
the  night, 

314 


Engraved  their  meanings  flushed  in  Heav- 
en's glow 

Deep  on  his  wond'ring  soul,  o'er  whose 
dark  thought 

Their  silent  pow'r  a  mighty  impulse 
thrilled. 

Long  years  had  passed  since  last  his  en- 
vious sight 

Had  rested  scowling  on  that  scene,  fresh  - 
fraught 

With  Heaven's  love,  yet  time  had  scarce 
fulfilled, 

In  human  speech,  a  single  day's  swift 
flight. 


As  one,  by  some  resistless  spirit  led, 

Wanders  half-listless  through  the  mystic 
night, 

Where  mighty  grief  is  hushed  in  wonder 
still  — 

His  willing  feet  the  threshold  aimless 
tread. 

Those  earth-born  angels,  beaming  with  de- 
light 

315 


And  thrilled  with  love,  warm-clasped  his 

nerveless  hand, 
In  anxious  welcome  from  the  night  and 

chill; 
And  led  him  where  soft  cheer  and  peace 

invite, 
And  languors  sweet  with  rest-beguiling 

wand 
To  dreamless  sleep  the  weary  sense  be- 

gile. 


When  morn  at  last  forth-burst  with  radi- 
ance vast, 
And  birds'  and  airs'  and  fountains'  joy- 
ous strain 
Hymned  ever  "Love,  O,  mighty  Love," 

and  thrill 
And  glow  of  angel-art  about  him  cast 
Deep  on  his  heart  its  rapturous  design, — 
He,  scarce  partaking  of  the  simple  fare 
Prepared  by  loving  hands,  with  guideless 

will 
Now  wanders  on,  while  o'er  his  dark  dis- 
dain 

316 


Those  spirit-tones  throbbed  through  his 
anguished  care, — 

Those  love-strains  dear  that  grief  to  si- 
lence still. 


Thus  on  he  heedless  strayed,  dazed  in  the 

blaze 
Of  glorious  day,  too  bright  for  rankling 

care 
That  sought  its  natural  home  in  gloom  and 

night. 
His  mind  bewildered,  struggling  through 

the  maze 
Of  hope  and  hate,  of  sorrow  and  despair, 
For  respite  yearned  from  mute  remorse 

and  pain, 
Unconscious  as  a  flower  seeks  the  light : 
But  no  invented  charms,  or  wonders  rare 
Of  false  belief,  no  mocking  shams  profane, 
Can  save  the  soul  from  evil's  deadly  blight. 

Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to 
love  one  another.  God  is  love;  and  he  that 
dwelleth  in  love,  dwelleth  in  God. 

Hast  thou  once  felt  love's  chastening  of 
soul, 

817 


Or  known  the  fining  fire's  relentless  pain? 
When  thou  the  grief  of  myriad  ills  hast 

borne, 
Suffered  the  pangs  of  want,  the  loss  of  all 
That  dear  doth  seem, — endured  the  crush- 
ing bane 
Of  heartless  scorn,  and  known  the  bitter 

woe, 
The  writhing  anguish  of  a  soul  forlorn 
Of  trusting  love  by  poisoned  treach'ry 

slain, 
Then  art  thou  fit  to  love  and  be  and  do, 
Tranquil  to  face  earth's  night  or  Heaven's 
morn. 


And  if,  companionless,  through  night  and 

gloom 
Thou  toilest  sad,  the  burning  of  a  star, 
Or  Nature's  spirit  voice,  the  forms  divine 
Of  loveliness  about  thee,  o'er  thy  doom 
Will  cast  a  veiling  charm,  a  magic  fair 
To  dumb  thy  pain  with  beauty;  while  the 

light 
Of  rescue  through  thy  sorrowed  night  doth 

shine, — 

318 


A  light  from  thine  own  passion, — till  afar 
Thy  path  of  dread  doth  glow  with  glory 

bright, — 
The  last,  the  triumph-ecstasy  of  pain. 


So  plods  the  pilgrim  on  through  rainbowed 
light 

Of  morn  too  joyous,  while  Love's  holy 
hymn 

By  Nature  breathed,  heard  in  yon  rap- 
tured fane, 

Soft  thrilled  its  tones  o'er  dark  contri- 
tion's might. 

To  one  sin-cursed  how  woeful  life  doth 
seem, 

Who  once  the  frenzied  bliss  of  happy  love, 

Or  tranced  form  of  beauty  in  its  reign 

Of  perfect  grace  has  known:  that  reach- 
less dream, 

That  hovers  viewless  in  some  realm  above, 

His  soul  enslaved  can  ne'er  again  attain. 


Ah,  dark  and  cold  the  long  and  weary 
years, 

819 


Adown  whose  pathway,  rough  with  pain 

and  throe, 
To  reach  that  height  he  still  must  strug- 
gle on, 
Where  visioned  Love  her  throne  of  glory 

rears ! 
Ah,  with  what  trying  recompense  of  woe, 
What  secret  suff 'ring  of  redeeming  pain, 
What  infinite  atonement  Heaven's  plan 
Doth  purge  that  soul  in  abject  evil  low, 
And  purify  of  mammon's  reeking  stain 
The  self -exalted  vanities  of  man ! 


A  weary  wTight  despised  he  must  crouch 

From  scorned  poor,  and  beg  his  daily 
bread 

From  door  to  door ;  and  when  night's  ray- 
less  chill 

Crept  o'er  his  quiv'ring  nerves,  a  lowly 
couch 

He  wretched  sought  in  humble  stall  or 
shed. 

Alone,  approachless  in  his  mute  despair, 

He  wandered  far  to  learn  the  cold  world's 
ill, 

320 


The  agonies  of  hunger  and  the  dread 
Of  sickness  and  disaster,  toil  and  care ; 
The  pang  of  scorn  and  mock'ry's  venom 
feel. 


A  herdsman  he  became  and  fed  the  swine, 
And  oft  in  hunger's  sheer  distress  he  fain 
Would  have  consumed  the  husks  on  which 

they  fed. 
He  labored  in  the  fields  till  the  decline 
Of  summer's  sun,  and  reaped  the  golden 

grain 
With  bruised,  tender  hands;  the  wine- 
press drear 
Till  settling  night  his  weary  feet  did  tread ; 
Or  in  the  vineyard  moiled  his  hire  to  gain, 
And  earn  his  scanty  fare  and  slumber's 

cheer : 
The  toiler's  sleep  became  his  only  meed. 

Blessed  is  the  man  whom  Thou  chasteneth,  O 
Lord,  and  teachest  him  out  of  Thy  law;  that 
Thou  mayest  give  him  rest  from  the  days  of 
adversity. 

And  when  the  sun  to  realms  receding  fair 
Far  in  the  golden  south,  the  drooping  leaf 

321 


Kissed  soft  in  mellow  flush  whose  tender 

wane 
Glowed  paler  o'er  the  olive's  tumid  sphere, 
By  night  and  day  he  toiled  in  sighing  grief, 
With  rude  device  to  press  the  savory  oil 
The  purpled  olive's  fracid  orbs  contain. 
Thus  passed  the  dreary  seasons, — no  re- 
lief 
With  their  mutation  bringing  to  his  soul 
Which  love  could  learn  alone  through  an- 
guished pain. 


Yet  as  the  years  rolled  on  in  silent  wane, 

In  waking  dreams  and  visions  fair  by 
night, 

Love's  holy  hymn  he  heard  thrill  o'er  his 
woes, 

Beheld  its  glory  glowing  through  his  pain. 

And  'twas  with  joy  he  saw  that  image 
bright, 

And  heard  those  strains  sweet  as  remem- 
bered dream. 

At  last,  unconscious  as  the  dawn,  arose 

His  soul,  restored  with  suff  'ring  infinite, 

322 


To  mighty,  universal  Love,  that  reigned 

supreme, 
An  impulse  sweet  whose  tender  passion 

glows 


In  every  thought  and  act.    "Oh,  that  my 
pow'r, 

A  crimef ul  sacrifice  to  self  and  greed, 

Might  be  restored,  that  to  the  suff 'ring 
poor 

I  all  might  dedicate, — their  well-earned 
dow'rl" 

That  mighty  love  became  his  only  creed, 

That  great  desire  his  only  joy  and  pray'r. 

And  e'er  amid  his  toil  did  he  implore 

Of  God,  the  Sovereign  Love,  that  single 
meed 

For  whose  delight  death's  pangs  he  glad 
would  bear. 

Could  Heaven  e'er  such  mighty  love  ig- 
nore? 


The  chills  of  winter  passed,  and  glowing 
spring 

323 


O  'erflushed  the  teeming  earth  with  wealth 

supreme, 
And  summer's  ample  harvest,  brimming 

o'er 
With  golden  grain  and  fruits,  was  mellow- 
ing, 
When  o'er  the  land,  as  though  on  autumn's 

gleam, 
There  spread  the  fame  of  One,  a  Naza- 

rene, 
Whose  wondrous  pow'r  Q-od-given  could 

restore 
The  sick  to  health,  the  maimed  to  strength, 

redeem 
The  soul  from  death,  and  make  whole  all 

unclean. 
The  people  from  the  Galilean  shore 


In  thousands  followed,  whom  He  healed 

and  blessed. 
"The  Son  of  God,"  "the  Savior  of  the 

Lost," 
They  called  Him,  "Best  beloved  and  Sent 

of  God." 

324 


With  holy  awe  that  thrilled  with  mighty 
zest; 

The  poor  wight  heard  the  story  of  the 
Christ ; 

And  ere  the  break  of  day  his  couch  did 
leave ; 

In  ardent  haste  the  long,  rough  way  he 
trod, 

Ne'er  faltering,  though  hunger's  pangs  ex- 
haust 

His  strength,  till  on  Capernaum's  strand 
at  eve 

He  stood  in  confidence  before  the  Lord. 


"Thou   Great   Redeemer,   Holy   One   of 

God," 
He   fervently   implored,   "Oh,  hear  my 

pray'r: 
Oh,  look  upon  the  soul  Thy  Love  doth 

purge  — 
The  soul  Thy  Holy  Passion  hath  imbued, 
And  to  my  life  my  lost  estate  restore, 
That  I  might  serve  the  victimed  poor,  and 

share 


With  them  my  life,  my  all,  for  whom  the 

scourge 
Of  martyr's  death  I  gladly  would  endure. 
Oh,  hear,  Beloved  Master !    Let  me  bear, 
For  Thy  Love's  sake,  the  humble  servant's 

charge!" 

And  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return, 
with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  on  their 
heads:  they  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness, 
and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  away. 

Christ  heard  with  joy  that  thrilled  His 

Passion's  grief, 
While  angel-hymns  inspired  His  Love- 
filled  soul. 
That    voice    that    reached    to    Heaven's 

throne,  and  awed 
To  adoration,  Nature,  Death  and  Life, 
The  blessing  breathed,  "Thy  faith  hath 

made  thee  whole. " 
And  it  was  even  so,  for  swift,  as  flight 
Of  soul  arose  again  that  lost  abode, 
A  love-reared  haven  fair,  the  pilgrim's 

goal. 
The  wild  waste  flushed  as  with  a  new  de- 
light; 

326 


And  where  the  blackened  haunt  of  Ruin 
stood, 


And  gaunt  Disaster  held  his  orgies  vast 

With  fiends  of  Greed  and  sprites  of  dead 
Despair, 

A  gentle  mist,  suffused  with  pale  hues, 
glowed, 

Strange  hov'ring  o'er  the  scene ;  and  when 
the  last 

Gray  stain  of  night  fused  in  dawn's  radi- 
ance fair, — 

Lo,  what  bright  bloom  now  clothes  the  rich 
domain ! 

What  beauty,  light  and  love,  what  bound- 
less good, 

What  raptured  blessings  fill  all  being 
there! 

And  o'er  those  gloried  regions  still  doth 
reign 

Through  bournless  Time,  the  infinite  Love 
of  God. 


327 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $t.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


**M-m&4t\ 


LD  21-100»i-12,'43  (8796s) 


Yb  4b- d*-: 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


